Raising the Barre 2: The Tipping Pointe
by blueoleandar93
Summary: With Super Bowl Champion Derek Morgan and professional ballroom dancer Dr. Spencer Reid split up, the heat of competition is rising to a fever pitch and is more dramatic than ever. Complete with catfights, poorly hidden lust, public humiliation, the return of ex-lovers, and an entire gang of producers against their advancement, this shit could be a reality show... oh, wait. It is.
1. Folie a Deux

**A/N: Hope you all had a great holiday! Onward to Part Two!**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre 2: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER ONE: Folie a Deux

...

_'DWTS' PRESENTS THE MOST SHOCKING PAIRING TO DATE-"TURNING HEADS AND RAISING RATINGS" OR "SENDING THE SHOW TO ITS DOOM"_

_by Blue Oleandar | The L.A. TIMES | 11:27am_

_..._

_The ancient ballroom drama, Dancing With the Stars, was slowly slipping out of pop culture and their listings were dropping by the season… until they pulled out a sudden, massive Wild Card during this year's Fall season that quickly reversed their fate: a same-sex pairing._

_Dr. Spencer Reid (fondly referred to as Doc) has been the sweetheart of competitive American ballroom ever since he debuted on the show in 2007. He's been known to take risks with his choreography, and his unique style and featured performances in an international ballet troupe have been his claim to fame. Just two years ago when he had collected his first Mirror Ball with Canadian supermodel Coco Rocha, she was re-tweeted all across the nation when quoted calling him the Prince of Ballroom. America agreed, gaining the Internet-shy dancer lots of media attention. While innovative, "the Prince" has held a very constant traditional style of dance… so, when we all flipped on our televisions five weeks ago, his graceful partner walk down the ballroom steps during the season premiere provided the gasp heard 'round the world._

_On Doc's arm, was a man—and not just any man. Derek Morgan._

_If you need your memory jogged, we'll help you out a bit. Derek Morgan is starting quarterback of the Chicago Bears and this year's NFL Champion. You probably know him from his most recent accomplishments, seeing as every sports channel in the country cheered when he was awarded current title holder of MVP (Most Valuable Player) after running forty feet to score the winning touchdown for his state during the Super Bowl. Yet, his talent doesn't end on the field. A model for Sports Illustrated, past spokesperson for the Humane Society, and three-time nominee for Sexiest Man Alive, he's found his place both on the football field and in every girl's heart. Seeing as he is the current face of the "All-American man", Derek Morgan was pretty much the last person on Earth who'd agree to dance competitive ballroom with another man! Yet, lo and behold… the world's most unexpected ballroom twist on the history of Dancing With the Stars found Derek Morgan beside the elusive Dr. Spencer Reid._

_Millions tune in each year for the premiere, but this year's online views skyrocketed after news got out of their unconventional partnership. Reviewers went wild. On one hand, you had the crazy-liberal, Pro-Change reporters whom cheered Reid and Morgan on the moment they set foot on stage. On the other hand, you have the crazy-conservative Anti-gay reporters whom saw their pairing as a sign of the second coming of Satan. Personally, both of them need to calm down. It's just too men dancing together—quite well, if we might add. It's not like they're making out on stage, waving a rainbow flag, and flipping off Prop 8. Or… are they?_

_The steady numbers of views for the show have been climbing by the day, and one of the main reasons why is not only Reid and Morgan's unconventional pairing, but the pure addiction America has for their hilarious relationship with one another. They couldn't be more different! At 6'1'', Doc has always been the gentle giant. He's a scholar with a passion for dancing, culture, and education. With his soft features and bashful smile, he's known as ballroom's sweetheart for more than one reason. He's so friggen cute, you just want to put him in your pocket and take him with you. Derek Morgan is almost a complete 180 from that man. He's proved many times that he has a personality bigger than his biceps, and Morgan has no time to sugar coat things. In his interviews, he's straightforward and says exactly what's on his mind no matter how is comes out sounding. He is, to put it bluntly, the muscle-bound bad boy of the football field. Charming, sexy, and quick-witted, he's easily met his match in the young doctor._

_And, it is just so much fun to watch them grind each other's gears._

_They barely seem to have anything in common, most rehearsal time is spent hissing at each other, and a twitter counter has noticed that the two men let out more swear words at each other than any other pairing in the entire show for the last six years._

_Yet, that's not what keeps us watching._

_Surprisingly, what we've had our eyes on since day one was the way that they toed around each other. Reid has been blushing non-stop since Week Two and recently, Morgan has been flirting with him so hard that it could have been an Olympic Sport. The sexual tension between them is through the roof, and we're pretty sure than no one saw it coming—including the two men. Their sharp banter is countered by soft hugs and stolen glances, and we're pretty sure there's something that we're missing going on behind the scenes._

_While their candid moments of teasing and subtle flirtation provides for an entertaining show, the two men surprised America once again three weeks into the competition with an extremely sensual Argentine Tango performed to the sexy song "When You're Mad" by popular recording artist Ne-yo. Their faces were held close as their hips swayed and the viewers were all raised eyebrows and gasps, despite their stance on the unconventional pair. Reid even allowed himself to be lifted at some point of the dance, which is a strictly feminine move in professional dance and has never before been achieved by a man on a live competitive dance show._

_Reid's choreographed dances have never before been as racy as they have been with the addition of his new partner, and the pairing has been performing closely beside each other since then. Even their sharp, stylized Viennese Waltz was tinged with a little something extra as they sailed across the floor last Monday._

_As we all cross our fingers for another wonderful performance as the two of them head into Latin Week, the couple seems to be going on strong. Sources say the two have been seen together less and less often since their Waltz, and we fear that there might be trouble in paradise. But, a couple this strong can only be as fantastic as they've shown so far._

_Break a leg, guys!_

_blueoleandar93_

* * *

The cavernous room was pitch black and fiercely quiet.

So quiet that it was almost roaring, pushing into negative space and filling it up with the ear-bursting shouts of nothingness. Derek lay on a soft bed, looking up at a dark ceiling, the sheets around him loose and easily escapable. Beside him was Spencer. The man was leaning away from him, dressed in nothing but an oversized oxford that brushed against his sheet-covered thighs and pair of blue boxers. He was so soft, so beautiful, so close to him. If Derek reached out a hand, it would graze across his lover's arm as soft as a whisper without even having to move so much as a few inches. Yet, he felt so far away. It's been days since their last kind word to each other, even longer since their last kiss. They could barely look at each other nowadays. Their dynamic was shattered when Derek had brought their physical relationship to an end.

He did it for their own good, but… he was waiting for it to come—the peace, the friendship, the sharp scraping of his broken heart to stop its thrumming in his ribcage. It never really did. All that came of it was an endless tunnel of awkward and anger and wrongness. Being so close to the man he had fallen for while held at arm's length hurt while they were together, but it hurts even more now. All Derek wants to do is grab the dancer in his arms and never let him go. But, ever since Derek left him alone in his bed, they only touch when they dance together. It's all that he can feel to remind him of what they were. The joy they felt in each other's arms is still there, just held back fiercely with all that both of the men have. He knows that he can't love Spencer. He mustn't. It's ruining him. Even now, it's tearing him apart.

Derek reached out a finger and traced one of Spencer's curls with his finger. It was just as soft as he remembers. He still smells like pine vanilla, and his body is still so warm as it lies beside him. Derek's heart ached for him. It ached so badly, each beat sore and weak. He wants so badly—with all that he is, he wants. But, he cannot have. Not anymore. Self-indulgence got him where he is now, and there's no way he's going to damn himself to a relationship with the bruised and tormented soul beside him. Not again. The next time is going to hurt so bad. He can almost hear the words now: "I don't trust you", "I don't believe in us", "we won't last".

Soft music came out of somewhere. It was a man singing in a sensual, raspy French tongue. The room grew light, or so it seems, and Derek sat up quickly at the same time Spencer did. It was morning. They'd spent the night together again, damn them. Damn Spencer's kisses and his soft grip and the passion of his nicotine-riddled tongue. He's addictive, but Christ, he's poison at the same time. Spencer looked back at him with messy curls and glasses, placed sloppily on his nose. With just a bit of stubble along the lower half of his face that he greets every morning with. He's sharply handsome when he wakes, but he can't do this. He can't fall for him again. He can't end up where he once was, alone and untrusted and unworthy of Spencer's heart.

Why did he spend the night him? Why?!

Derek scoffed. He knows why, cursing himself as he lay there in nothing but a baggy pair of sweatpants.

They can't help themselves, that's why. Their pull to each other is so fierce, so strong that sometimes they can barely pull away. Hours of hissing angry swears at each other build their tension to a fever pitch and before they know it, they're pressing into each other's bodies, whispering "I hate you" into sweaty necks and warm mouths, climaxing hard all over searing hot skin and puffs of wet breath. They're like two sides of a magnet, one positive and one negative. They repel, they repel, they repel until they can't anymore and rush together like it's all that they were made to do.

Derek pressed a hand to Spencer's leg to soothe him, but his hand was pulled off with an answering glare. Trying again, Derek placed both hands at his shoulders before Spencer shrugged him away. They pushed themselves out of bed and stared each other down at the same exact time. The two men looked away from each other and stole glances as the Frenchman continued in the background.

"_Assis sur les banc de la vie. A apprendre le mien et l'oubli…_"

Spencer made his way away from the bed, fixing his shirt and hair as quickly as he could. Derek followed him and grabbed his arm, pulling him close and Spencer followed him for a moment as the singer stalled, eyes locked on his with hope in them before the dancer shook his head and pulled away. As Spencer made his way away from him, Derek mirrored his movements, blocking him from the door with his body. _Don't leave, Spencer. Please don't leave me_. Against his better judgment it seemed, Spencer wrapped him in his arms and buried his face into his neck as the singer stalled once more. Derek pushed him off of him and they glared each other down. The two men walked around each other, stalling for a moment with the voice and continuing the circling.

The two stepped around each other quickly and came together with matching powerful stances, refusing to touch as they circled each other close, eyes boring into the other.

"_Ici l'amour est laid, ici l'amour est sale y a des branches de rosier pour t'essuyer les larmes_."

They raised their hands beside their heads and clapped twice as they walked around each other even faster.

"_Alors fais comme les autres tu sais à Amsterdam_."

They stepped back and clapping twice again.

"_Pour t'èponger le coeur, prends-la avec du charme_."

There, Derek followed him as Spencer stomped back to the center of the room, clapping behind him as Spencer fanned his oversized shirt to the side like a matador's cape. The music picked up and they started on a sudden chase around the room, Spencer pulling away as Derek tried to make his way back to him. Derek grabbed their hands together and they sashayed around each other as the Frenchman's voice hastened. They raised them to clap thrice and leaned in, grabbing each other closer and closer in the throes of passion. He smiled against Derek's chest as their legs tangled and they fell back into bed together.

The music slowed immensely and Spencer pushed Derek down until he was straddling him. The singer paused. He yanked Derek back up and they wrapped their arms around each other. The singer paused again. Derek flipped them around and straddled Spencer. The singer paused a third time. Derek grabbed Spencer's collar from where he was and loosened a button. The music slowed even further and the singer paused again. Spencer pushed him away. The singer paused once more. Derek pushed him back down. Spencer shoved him away and hopped off of the bed, quickly making his way away from Derek, lifting his hands to shake loose his messy curls.

Derek ran after him and pulled him back, Spencer sashaying with him passionately as the music picked up.

"_Ici l'amour est laid, ici l'amour est sale y a des branches de rosier pour t'essuyer les larmes_."

They raised their hands beside their heads and clapped twice as they danced around each other even faster.

"_Alors fais comme les autres tu sais à Amsterdam_."

They stepped back, clapping twice again.

"_Pour t'èponger le coeur, prends-la avec du charme_."

The chorus of the song was repeated and the two moved against each other, Derek raising his hands to clap as Spencer fanned the edge of his shirt again. They followed one another and stepped in time, eyes forever locked as they stared down their pasts and tried to see through their foggy futures together. Would they ever get over this pain? Would they ever graduate out of the lust they feel for each other? Would Spencer ever tell Derek how he truly feels about him, or will Derek watch him destroy the both of them with his denial? Would they ever love like they did again? Did they ever really love at all?

The Frenchman's voice sang to a halt and the music ended with Spencer thrown and alone on the bed and Derek making his way out of the door, the exact same way he had left him the week before.

The blinding house lights raised and the crowd's sudden applause sounded like a million separate claps of thunder, jerking Derek out of his reverie.

Derek made his way back onto the other side of the prop door as the crowd started to howl and scream. Spencer slipped off of the bed and buttoned up his shirt, padding over to Derek barefoot and patting his partner's shoulder noncommittally. The two men headed to the judges desk and prepared themselves to be judged on their performance that was way too personal for Derek's liking.

But, he had no choice in the matter.

Spencer was the choreographer and when he thought up this dance for Latin Week, Derek suffered through the _very public_ telling of their story. All of the passion and tension and sex they'd worked up over the past five weeks crashed together on stage and bled through every move of their Paso Doble. There were no crazy colors, no capes, no fanfare. It was simply them at their rawest. Derek's lust and Spencer's guard; Spencer's need and Derek's listening ears. Truth be told, Derek was terrified as hell to even do this with Spencer, nevertheless with a national crowd. But, Spencer insisted that it was an incredible idea, and it's not like Derek had a vote.

David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, and Aaron Hotchner all stared back at them with the same exact expression of blatant shock on their faces. The host patted Derek on the back and stated, "Wow. That was one, uh… _interesting_ dance you two did there. Any comments?"

Derek and Spencer glanced over at him breathlessly, saying at the same time, "No."

They'd done alright as far as scoring goes. They didn't receive a ten this week due to the fact that each judge thought that the choreograph was a little too much emotionally. Derek hazarded a glance at his partner and tried with all of his might not to roll his eyes toward the Heavens. That's what he had been telling Spencer all week—well, mostly shouting, but you get the idea. It was apparent that the team had put their hearts out on that stage, and so they were rewarded with nines, but they remained as elusive with the camera as they could be without striking up suspicion. Or, so they thought. They didn't talk, hold hands, or maintain eye contact for longer than necessary. Derek sat with Emily and Penelope and Spencer sat with his dancer friends.

The distance between the men quickly grew awkward, but thankfully it wasn't as tense as the last week had been. All they'd been able to do is this odd tango between careful whispering and angry hisses of contempt. Spencer actually called Derek a butthead last week. Seriously, he couldn't make this up. Spencer threw a towel at Derek's face and called him a "butthead that couldn't Paso". Derek let it go, the same way he had let go every other horrible thing Spencer had said to him over the course of the last few days.

Kid is pissed at him and Derek means _pissed_. On top of being sexually frustrated as all hell, Spencer blames Derek for what had happened between them. He can see it in Spencer's big brown eyes whenever he looks at him. Yes, their split was partially Derek's fault. He was the one who officially ended things, but Spencer drove him to the edge. Derek's heart was on the line and Spencer actively didn't believe they would work out as a couple, voicing his opinion every time Derek got comfortable with him. Derek's been pushed away, pushed around, and pushed to the limit by the clever dancer; he knew continuing down this road with Spencer would mean nothing but heartbreak for the both of them. Yet, not for the same reasons as Spencer does. Spencer didn't even give them a shot. Derek on the other hand sees how hard it is for Spencer to admit his feelings, and knows that if they can't be honest with each other, they can't have anything—not even friendship. It's simply not possible.

Spencer pushed past him to the dressing rooms and Derek watched his partner's lithe form swish by in his costume, remembering the times when Spencer climbed up the sheets toward Derek wearing a similar outfit and a sly grin as he kissed away their problems and licked at their wounds. But, this isn't that outfit. That shirt on Spencer's body isn't one lazily shrugged into from the day before and the boxers weren't Derek's. It's a costume—a mockery of their relationship and all of the soft-spoken confessions they had shared with each other in that whirlwind of a fortnight.

It's all gone, what they had. And all that's left is the hurt.

There was a knock on Derek's dressing room door fifteen or so minutes later. Derek had already dressed. He was sitting in the room avoiding the mirror, eating his feelings in the form of expensive Greek Yogurt, and waiting out the usual time it takes for Spencer to change. He doesn't want to run into him. Not while he still looks like that. Not while he wears those clothes. Derek can hardly take it. He raised the spoon to his lips and took another large mouthful of cold, white goo.

Yep.

He's going to die alone.

The knock on the door was becoming persistent, so Derek sighed angrily, rose, and wrenched it open to be greeted by his two girl friends, Emily Prentiss and Penelope Garcia—goth singer and band frontrunner respectively. Instead of the gleeful tugs and shrieks of fun, they gave him worried looks. Both in clubwear much like the dresses they had worn the week before, Penelope leaned against the door, "Hey, Chocolate Thunder. How are you holding up?"

Derek raised his large cup of yogurt, "Well, this Chobani ain't half bad, so… there's that."

Emily wrinkled her nose, "That's like you're third cup of yogurt tonight."

Derek shrugged, "Fourth, actually. Carpe Diem."

"That's 400 calories of pure dairy!" Penelope reached forward and took the cup from Derek, ignoring his whines as she stated, "If you keep eating this crap you're either going to break out or shit a lot, and both of those options don't sound cute."

Derek replied, "I don't need to be cute. What for? Who for? Not Spencer. He hates me," Derek sniffed, looking down, "And I'm bloating. And I'm old. And Spencer doesn't love me. Give me the cup. I still have feelings in there that I need to eat," Derek snatched at the yogurt and sniffed again, brushing at his eyes, "And I'm not crying, okay? I'm not going to take this break up like a bitch! I'm going to beat the shit out of it with strawberries and peaches."

"Listen up, Black Beauty! You're going to wipe your face, put this yogurt down, throw on a sexy top, and head out with us. This is pathetic and we're not taking no for an answer this time." Penelope ordered.

Derek sighed sluggishly, "I just want to go bed and eat and watch soaps and pretend not to cry. Can I just do that instead?"

"No. You can't. Because this?" Emily shook her head and grabbed the half-empty yogurt from him, "The moping and the sleeping and the yogurt? That's getting you nowhere. You need to forget Spencer for a second. You need to let loose! You need to have fun and remember what it's like to be hot, sexy Derek, okay? You don't need no man to define you! And you know what, mister?"

Derek whined, "What?"

Emily reached up and took the Snap Back off of Derek's head, "You need to burn this hat. It's stupid."

Derek mumbled under his breath, "Spencer said I look sexy in it."

Penelope replied, "Well, he used you and treated you like shit. Do you really want to value his opinion?" Penelope grabbed Derek's hand and tugged him out of the dressing room, "Now, we're going to stop by your hotel, you're going to get gorgeous, and we're going to have the time of our lives, alright? Move 'em on, head 'em out, rawhide!"

* * *

Derek's been to a lot of questionable places in his lifetime, but Club Bey-otch was fucking insane. I mean... it was named _Club Bey-otch_. That was a sign, in Derek's eyes. It was packed wall to wall with writhing, sweaty, glittery bodies. The bass of the music was shaking the floor, so loud that he could feel it thrumming in his ribcage. It was very dark—nearly too dark to see, saved by soft tinted pulsing bulbs that flicked on and off as they hung from the glass ceiling. The bar was lined with neon fairy lights, the tenders were in black muscle shirts, and the waitresses walked around in bunny ears and short skirts. As Derek looked up and around, he noticed that most of the club patrons were two decades younger than him and the ladies on his arm as Schoolboy Q's "Collard Greens" blasted through the speakers. Within only a moment in the club, Derek could feel himself loosening up a bit. A couple of months ago, Derek would have been all over this shit, but he'd have to admit; he didn't think he would be up for this today. Truthfully, he probably wasn't.

Emily and Penelope at his side, both bubbly and charismatic in their little black dresses, were nearly more excited about partying then the clubowner was. He watched as the two talked animatedly by his side along with the pulsing music pressed into their bodies. They paid the bouncer and grooved together, yanking Derek by his hands into the group. Penelope's curls bounced and Emily's cat-like eyes glistened in the slow strobes and invited him in. Derek wanted to dance. He really, truly did. But once he started moving his hips, all he could think of was the way Spencer pushed the hip-hop out of them when he taught him to Tango. Derek took a breath and nodded towards the girls, reassuring himself more than he was them. He can do this. He can have fun. He can throw all of this out of the window, and he can let loose and party. All he has to do is make sure he doesn't dance too much. Or think about Spencer. Or drink. Or go home too late. Or maintain eye contact with anyone with soft curls, a lanky form, and big brown eyes. Should be simple.

Raising her slender hand quickly, Emily handed Derek a twenty, "Could you get me an iced tea? Please and thank you."

Derek shrugged and took the bill, "Sweetened or unsweetened?"

Emily chuckled, "Oh, you're so cute. Long Island, honey."

Penelope asked suddenly with a chipper smile, "Oh! Can I have one too? Seven Up instead of Coke, please."

Derek leaned over and kissed her cheek, "Do I look like I have a towel on my arm, girls?"

The two girls waved him off and Derek headed over to the bar, wading through the packs of sweaty dancing young adults. He rolled his eyes as one scantily clad redhead bumped right up onto his front, spilling her drink dangerously close to his vintage custom Adidas. She giggled and swayed drunkenly at his side. Derek pushed his way past her. His head was too heavy to care. Even if she had spilled that acidic girly cup of sprinkles on his shoes, it would have slipped his mind moments after it had happened. His heart was heavy with love and regret. Hell, Derek probably deserved it for the way he had left Spencer. Alone. Cold. Naked. Derek deserves worse and Spencer deserves so much better.

He had approached the tender with a small glance, waiting in line for a stool for minutes before he finally got one. Settling down on top of the small, red cushion, Derek raised his hand easily to hail to bartender and a tall, slender, brown eyed man wearing a black tee shirt made his way toward him from the other side of the bar, wiping the edge of a tumbler with a clean towel as he flicked his short brown bangs away from his forehead with a nod, "What'll it be, dude?"

Derek's heart stopped. The bartender didn't really look much like his dance instructor at all. They just shared minor traits. The tender's nose was smaller, his eyelashes weren't as long. His arms had less definition in them, almost serpent-like, and not to mention his hair was cut into this short, fashionable muss that rivaled Spencer's long, naturally tousled locks. But, in the right light, under the right amount of alcohol, he could definitely turn Derek's head. As of now, he just looked enough like Spencer to further his heartache. Just another painful reminder.

The bartender sighed, placing his elbows onto the counter and leaning back onto them lazily as he glanced into Derek's eyes, "Wanna take a picture, cutie? I guarantee it'll last longer, because I don't look this cute this long for free."

Yeah. _Definitely_ not Spencer. Derek shook his head and waved him off, "I'm sorry. You just look a lot like someone I know."

The bartender laughed with his mid-west twang and a flirty bite of his lip, "More like someone you fucked with the way you were staring me down, dude. I appreciate the sudden appraisal, but alas… I'm a man, not a steak."

Derek added wistfully, "Him too. A _good_ man. A little wet behind the ears, but still good."

"I'd bet he wasn't boyfriend material then, huh?" the eager-eyed bartender said.

Derek replied, "Let's go with that."

He answered back, giving Derek an appreciative nod, "At least you tried. Hell, I never did. Ain't had a boyfriend before. What's it like?"

"I wouldn't know…" Derek gave him a long glance after the probing question, "No offense, but, aren't you supposed to be making drinks?"

The bartender shrugged with an airy shrug, "Yeah. I'm five glasses behind, but you're hot and nice and I really dig your vibe."

Derek chuckled, "You 'dig my vibe'?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

Derek asked, "How old are you, kid?"

"Twenty-two," the bartender winked, "_And a half_."

Derek scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Okay, jailbait. I'm going to stop this train right here. I could easily be your dad. Two long island iced teas. One with Coke, one with Seven Up."

The bartender added, a slow smile creeping up onto his face, "First off, my name isn't Jailbait, it's Matt. And secondly, I don't give not one damn about your age. I've never really had a father figure before. You could be my Papi if you're kinky like that."

Derek shook his head, changing the subject quickly, "Drinks. Now, please."

"Fine, fine. I get it. I'm a spry, little Ford and you're a sleek, sexy Jaguar. You couldn't handle me anyway, grandpa," Matt the bartender replied, pulling out two long glasses from underneath the bar, "Just know that the one with the Seven Up isn't technically considered a Long Island anymore. It's called an _Adios_ Mother Fucker."

The kid turned his back to the bar and started again on his drinks and Derek nearly laughed aloud. That was a pretty good blow off. Could have been better, but it's a Monday night. Derek won't fault him for that. He watched as the younger man made his way through the drinks, pouring them with skill, tossing in garnishes, and dropping in ice. The tender handed off the drinks, keeping tabs of his full bar on the screen beside him. This kid clearly knew what he was doing, but even Derek could tell that this is the last place he wanted to be. He had dreams just like everybody else. He was young, full of hope, and in LA of all places. So, yeah, he was pouring drinks and flirting with older men in tight clothing, but his mind wasn't really here. It was on its own frequency.

When the bartender had finally gotten to Derek's order, he placed the two drinks in front of them and raised a brow when Derek asked, "Matt isn't your real name, is it?"

Matt let out a mysterious smile, "Cute and smart."

"What brings you to LA? Major in mixology?"

"Doubled in Filmmaking and poetry, actually. I graduate next semester," Matt replied.

Derek grinned back. It's good that he's in school. "Alma mater?" he inquired.

Matt laughed and leaned back on his heels, "NYU, actually."

Derek's eyebrows raised, "Seriously?"

"I know, right?" he added with a smile, clearly proud of his school, "What's an east coast boy like me doing in a place like this?"

Derek guessed, "Scenery?"

Matt replied, smirking and leaning across the bar with a confident glint in his eye that reminded Derek so much of his instructor, "Wouldn't you like to know, Papi?"

Oh, this kid was flirting _hard_. Way too hard for a Monday. He knows something, Derek can tell. What Derek doesn't know is what. Derek added, "I kind of would."

"Well, I get off at one," Matt spoke, pressing up on his elbows to lean in further until his breath was against Derek's ear, "You could be getting off at one fifteen… if you catch my drift."

Derek started to laugh nervously, taking the two drinks in hand and shaking his head, "I'm sorry kid. I just…"

Matt nodded in understanding, "Mr. Boyfriend Material still got you his hand on your collar?"

Derek answered, "Yeah. That and... you are ridiculously young. Like seriously. Chris Hanson young."

"Your loss," Matt winked, turning back to his post.

"Touché." Derek left the twenty on the counter and took the drinks, about to start making his way through the crowd back to the girls before he paused, "… can I get a strawberry yogurt?"

The bartender paused and reached under the counter, giving him a wary look before tossing it Derek's way. Derek took the sealed cup and smiled at the comfort provided by the cold dairy. He shoved it into his pocket and started to push through the crowd of undulating partiers. He found himself squeezed in close by their heat and sweat and drunkedness, and Derek took comfort in the fact that he was tonight's designated driver. He would hate to have ended up as sloppy and morally gray as the people currently invading his space.

The girls were quite hard to find, especially since they weren't where he'd left them before. He could blame the long line or the flirty bartender for his tardiness, but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel slightly jilted. Derek raised his chin, grateful for his six foot stature as he peeked around the strobing lights and sweaty bodies for red curls and black eyeliner. They were almost nowhere to be found, and Derek found himself worrying a bit as he wondered where they'd gotten to.

There was a hand tugging him sharply into the corner by the arm and before he could react, he heard Emily's voice hissing in his ear, "We gotta go. Now."

Derek asked, quickly glancing around the club for a reasonable threat, "What? Why?"

Emily pushed his face back to hers, black lined eyes serious, "No reason. Pen is across the street at a different bar. She didn't like the energy here."

"Pen likes the energy everywhere. What's going on?" Derek narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Uh..." Emily sighed, hanging her head and pointing behind Derek, "Three o'clock."

Derek glanced back toward where she was pointing and his heart dropped to the floor as he took it all in, "Fuck. What the hell is he even doing here? He doesn't club."

"Apparently he does now," Emily answered easily, glancing around him, "With her."

Derek glared down that section of the club and in that moment, he didn't care about anyone else in the room except _that guy_. A flash of anger zipped its way down his spine as he watched this man be pulled onto the center of the crowded dance floor by a flirty looking brunette woman. Dressed in stylish denim and a designer Henley, the man acted bashful for just long enough to cause a moment of surprise as he held the woman close and started to sway with her to the heavy bass of a Jay-Z song. He moved with confidence and seemed to care none about who was looking at him. No one but Derek it seems. His large brown eyes flitted up, catching Derek's as if he knew he was being watched. Challenging with fire in his glance, Spencer stood, swaying with this beautiful stranger.

He didn't even know that he was moving forward with the means to strike out before he felt a forceful, long fingered hand on his chest holding him back. Emily glanced up to him, surprise in her eyes as she pushed him into the wall with power that he didn't even know she had, "Don't be that guy, Derek. He's testing you. Look at him."

"I see him! That's why I'm going to walk over there and start a reasonable conversation, starting with the topic of why he's touching that five-cent whore over there," Derek whipped out, locking his gaze with his partner's.

Emily growled, "I oughta slap you for saying that. You don't know that girl. You don't know what she is to him."

Derek's jaw clenched as he watched Spencer's hands dip low on the woman's back as he pulled her closer, spitting out, "I think it's pretty obvious what she is to him."

Emily answered, "Well, it doesn't matter. You're not his boyfriend, you have no jurisdiction. Back off, sweetheart, because he can do whatever he wants with whomever he wants."

Derek puffed out his chest with a scoff, looking back at his friend with an angered hiss, "Just let me talk to him for a second."

"No. That's what he wants. To rile you up. Come on. We'll go somewhere else," she started to tug at Derek's arm in the direction of the door.

Derek hissed back, "What? And let him win?!"

Emily replied impatiently, "You can't _win_ a break-up, Derek! It's not a competition! Just because you're miserable doesn't mean he has to be!"

"I don't want him to be miserable!" Derek exploded out, "I want him to love me, but he doesn't because I'm not good enough for him!" Derek's hand flew up to cover his mouth and he worried as everything he internalized all week just forced its way out of his mouth in one simple sentence. He doesn't care that there are plenty of fish in the sea. He wants that fish right there; the angry, vengeful fish with the hurt in his large brown eyes.

Emily was right. There was no way to win this. Spencer was livid, he was _furious_, and he had something against Derek now. So, he's acting out. He's doing things he otherwise wouldn't just to get Derek's attention. He wanted Derek to know how upset he is at him for shattering his heart, he was obsessed with it. Every moment he had for the past week to let Derek in on his contempt, he did. So, now, this goody-two shoe ballet dancer is running around with some woman, shoving his sexuality in Derek's face trying avidly to express just how _over him_ he was. It was childish, and to be completely honest, Derek wasn't in the mood for all this little boy shit. He wasn't. He told Spencer expressly that he was going to keep their physical relationship at a flatline until he could get what he needed from Spencer _emotionally_ first. And what did Spencer do? He threw a tantrum. Like a fucking twelve-year-old. And this right here? This is his version of flipping out in the cereal isle of K-Mart.

He felt the woman beside him pat his back and rest her head on his shoulder, "Are you sure you want him? He's kind of weird."

Derek sighed, "I know."

She spoke, "And strange-looking."

Derek replied, "Just a little bit."

Emily added with a laugh, "And he always smells like cake icing."

"It's pine vanilla, actually," Derek answered.

Emily glanced back at the vengeful man, "He can get a little mean sometimes too."

Derek held back his smile, "He just needs to grow up, that's what it is."

Emily pushed at Derek's shoulder, "You're an idiot for falling for him."

"Falling? Girl. I tripped, slammed into a fifteen-story window, and hurtled through it to my death. Falling is an understatement." Derek's eyes cast downward.

She leaned against him and patted his hand, "To me, it sounds like you _jumped_. And he just didn't catch you."

"Damn right, he didn't." Derek replied, lifting the glass of AMF and taking a shallow sip. It was sharp to the taste, tangy and bubbly with carbonation. He could almost feel the rusted aftertaste of the alcohol, hitting him with a delayed reaction to the face as he watched Spencer dance up on some woman. Derek glanced over at Emily as the song changed from rap to a slow, seductive tune, "He wants to shove shit in my face, fine. How about you and me raise a little hell?"

Emily tossed him a wicked grin, pulling his arms around her and pressing her back up against his chest with ease, "You want to make him jealous? That, I can do."

Derek moved against her, slow and serpentine, watching as Spencer's gaze grew firey. He leaned down and whispered into her ear, "He's not mad enough."

Emily locked eyes with Spencer as she pressed a kiss to Derek's cheek, "Oh, honey. He will be. Take my waist."

Derek placed his hands gently at the cut of her hips, well-defined in the tight tube dress she had on. Thank God for it too, because her shoulders looked alabaster in their soft strength. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in straight dark lines, outlining her face and swaying around it as Derek pressed his hips against hers. She glanced up at Derek and gave him a black lipped smile. "Now, watch his face when I do this," Emily said, sliding her way down Derek's body with her hand buried in her hair, shaking it out as she came back up. Derek chuckled to himself as Spencer's eyes flashed with contempt. The dancer glared at Derek, prying the woman off of him, and stomping towards the door.

Emily laughed and raised her hand, "Yeah! High five, dude."

Derek's heart fell in his chest, feeling heavy with guilt. Shit. He didn't mean to make Spencer too mad. Just bat him around a bit as payback for his childish behavior. Now, he stooped to Spencer's level, which just may be one of the dumbest things he could have done. Perfect. Spencer shoved his way through the crowd on his way to the door, eyes set on it with something in them Derek couldn't read. Derek hissed, "Fuck!" and excused himself from Emily, pushing through clubbers to follow him out of the building.

He pressed his hands against the cold glass of the door and jogged after the fast moving dancer, feeling the harsh change in atmosphere. The air was thinner and cooler as it rushed into his lungs. Cars zoomed past along the road, allowing pedestrians like them a mere two feet of travel space, but Spencer was walking it like it was nothing. The dancer stopped at the edge of the block, raising his hand to hail a cab. Derek made his way to Spencer within the minute, pulling his hand to Spencer's side and making the thin man jump. Spencer swore, "Fuck, man! Way to sneak up on me!"

"I'm sorry—" Derek started.

Spencer turned on his heels and hissed into Derek's face, breath stinking with alcohol, "I hate you! I have half a mind to punch you in the face after that little stunt you pulled with Emily! What? You think I didn't notice it!?"

Derek replied with a scoff, "We made sure you did. It was all for you, you angry, revenge-ridden fuck."

Spencer glared, heat in his eyes as he spat out, "Well, then fuck you both! She's already against me by dancing with Hough, so you two backstabbers deserve each other!" and raised his hand toward the road again, trying once again to hail a taxi.

Derek started again, "Look, man. We went too far, I get that, but you have to admit that you've been more than a little cruel lately."

Spencer ignored him, waving his hand toward the onslaught of cars.

Derek added, "You've been ignoring me, for one. The only time we talk is when you're teaching me something, and even then, I get the third degree from you. You've been rude, you've been callous, you've treated me like shit. Every five minutes—man, are you listening to me?"

Spencer said nothing, hand still in the air and eyes nowhere near Derek's.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" Derek grabbed Spencer's shoulder and turned him around so that he could look him in the eyes, "You're fucking us up, man! You really are! You choreographed a dance about our goddamned sex life this week and wouldn't allow me to change it, which cost us much—needed points. You act like I don't exist and throw stupid little tantrums all because I won't let you fuck me until you admit how you feel about me, because I want us to be in a healthy fucking relationship!"

Spencer raised his index finger, whipping out, "I don't give a shit about you! I don't want your body, I don't want your mind, and don't want your fucking judgement! Can you get that through your undersized head?! I don't _want_ you anymore! You threw me away like I was trash! You left me, Derek, just like I always knew you would, and I can't trust you! Do you know how hurt I am?! Do you even care about how I feel, Derek?!"

Derek answered, "That's rich. That's real friggen rich coming from the man who would hold me and kiss me and tell me I wasn't good enough in the same second."

Spencer sighed, "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

Derek yelled back, "_Because I love you, you fucktard_!"

Spencer's face froze and he let out a soft breath, "W-what?"

"This past month or so has been one of the wildest times of my life. I learned how to ballroom dance, yeah, but you taught me so much more. You taught me how to challenge the way an entire generation of people thinks with a simple tango. You taught me how to… give a damn about classical music, and forgive people who are against me, and look for the beauty in things I wasn't supposed to see. You taught me how to eat ten chicken nuggets in under three minutes. You taught me how to let go and lift everything off of my shoulders to be free, if for only just a moment," Derek sighed with a wistful smile, "You made me really fucking terrified of lemons, and mornings with no coffee, and starting rehearsal without you. You taught me how to fall in love with someone's laugh. You taught me how to adore sunlight, because of the way it hits your face through the curtains just before you wake up, man, you taught me how to smile and really, really mean it, and you're a _prick_, but I'm so... so fucking in love with you..."

Spencer blinked his eyes closed somberly for a second.

Derek lifted his chin up with his finger, "I am, and it's weird and scary and beautiful. But, when you tell me that you can't love me back—that you won't let yourself love me back—it feels like a slap in the face that keeps getting harder and harder every time you say it. I can't kiss you and feel your hands pushing me away at the same time. I can't do it. So, I'll wait for you. And I won't leave you until you truly want me to go, because I love you. And I care about you. And I want to hear you say that back one day."

Spencer sniffed, catching Derek's hand on his face with his own, "It's so hard for me to give you all of that, Derek. I'm trying, I am. But, I'm just so scared."

Derek smiled fondly back at him, "Yeah, shit will hit the fan. I guarantee it. But, I dare you. Fall. I'll catch you. Every time. You really don't weigh that much."

"I... didn't know you felt that way," Spencer laughed wetly and raced forward, hugging Derek roughly around the neck, pressing his face into Derek's shoulder, "I'm sorry for being an asshole."

Derek shrugged, "It's nothing new."

Spencer hit Derek's arm, holding him closer, "Shut up, I'm trying to apologize here."

Derek said into Spencer's hair, "Go ahead. I won't stop you."

Spencer sighed, "I want to love you, I do. But, I promise you, it's not because you're not worth it. I'm just not ready yet."

"That's fine," Derek pressed a kiss underneath Spencer's ear, "I've got all the time in the world."

Spencer nuzzled into Derek's neck, "Good."

A cab rolled up to the hugging pair and the window rolled down. A greasy-looking dark haired man stuck his head over to it from the driver's side and asked in a deep, gravelly voice, "One of yous, or both of yous?"

Spencer nudged his head against Derek's shoulder, "Both."

* * *

**A/N: It seems cute now, but hold on to your knickers, pal. It's only chapter one.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	2. Vista

**A/N: I'm currently going through the whole packing and moving back into my dorm biz right now, so this chapter is barely edited. Please bear with me during this time of holy shitness.**

* * *

Raising the Barre 2: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER TWO: Vista

Pulling the sticky cab door closed beside him, Derek glanced to Spencer as he pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and fastened his seatbelt across his chest.

Derek scoffed, "You actually carry a handkerchief?"

Spencer shrugged, "Yeah. Why?"

"Well, it's not 1720, for one." Derek replied sassily.

"Fine. Whatever. Touch these seats with your bare hands, then. Have fun getting Cholera," Spencer answered sassily, leaning forward and asking the cabbie, "Could you take us to Vista, please, sir?"

The cabbie croaked back through the hazy window, "You got it, dude."

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, "Vista? …where's Vista?"

Spencer smiled cynically, "More like, _what's_ Vista."

"You're being mysterious again," Derek folded his arms across his chest, moodily. He is quite relieved that Spencer no longer hates his guts, but this whole turn around just isn't sitting right with him. Everything worked out too quickly. One moment, Spencer's trying to get him jealous, flinging curses and middle fingers, and after _one speech_, Derek's back on his good list? Please. Spencer is more complex than the fourth season of Torchwood. One bared heart can't break through his tightly weaved coding… can it? No. No, it can't. Derek's not taking the bait. The other shoe is going to drop. Derek just doesn't know when.

So, he needs to be ready. Yeah, he can do that. Derek's guard was officially up.

As the car sped through the town, Derek gazed out of the window. The city was kind of crazy looking at night. It's all lights and billboards and signs. Nothing like Chicago. It's almost blinding**—**the flashing bulbs. Spencer's probably used to it, being from Vegas and all, but Derek's kind of finding it uncomfortable. These larger than life buildings, herds of people, millions of perfumes, billions of ideas clashing onto one strip of land… it makes him feel small**—**irrelevant almost; like he could do anything at all and it wouldn't matter. But, there's this undercurrent to it that's almost comforting. Everyone who was here was here for a reason. They weren't stuck here, held down, or suppressed. The main point of L.A. was to follow your dreams and become something amazing, despite your past. There was so much drive and promise here. He could feel it in the breeze, all of the hope and passion and love.

Derek asked, "What brought you here?"

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "Where?"

Derek solidified, "Los Angeles."

Spencer shrugged, "Work. If I didn't have to be in this place, trust me, I wouldn't. I hate it here."

Derek nearly jerked back in surprise, "Wait, what? You hate it here?"

"Yeah," Spencer replied, looking out of his side of the window, "…doesn't snow."

Derek replied, "But you're from Nevada. It doesn't snow there either."

Spencer started to chuckle softly, "Doesn't mean I don't like it."

Derek wrinkled his nose, "It's cold. Kind of disgusting too when it like halfway melts or gets stuck in your socks."

Spencer glanced over at Derek, "But, you get to bundle up and drink coffee at any time and no one will judge you. And everything smells like cinnamon and your cheeks get all red and it looks… so beautiful when you wake up and look out of the window and there it is. All over the trees and the ground."

Derek added, "And your dashboard..."

Spencer laughed, "I love it."

Derek snorted, "I hate it."

"Wow, look at us," Spencer said with a smile, "You know, 62% of divorced couples found most of their disagreements were about money, children, and the weather."

Derek replied, "Huh. Good thing we're not married. We've got enough to worry about."

Spencer started to laugh, "I'm not so sure about that."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

Spencer answered, "With gay marriage legalized in California in 2013, it's not impossible. Plus, we're biracial which is a backdoor tax discount, and you'd be new to the state which would be a discount on top of that discount, _and_ you're close to 50, which would give us senior benefits as well."

"Excuse you, I'm 41. I'm nowhere near 50. Senior benefits, my ass." Derek said.

Spencer chuckled, "I don't even think you want to know how incredible our tax breaks would be. We'd save so much money, it would almost be like stealing from the government. I kind of want to do it, just to see what happens."

Derek gave Spencer a worried stare, "You'd marry me for a tax break?"

"Not just that," Spencer replied, "We get along okay, the sex would be phenomenal, and you cook a mean breakfast. Plus, you'd be good with children. It would be kind of bumpy at times, but we'd figure it out."

Derek asked, "_You_ want kids?"

Spencer smiled wistfully, "One day. A girl, preferably. I don't know if I'd be a good dad, but… I want to be there for a kid. Watch her grow up, keep her safe. Dry her tears and be there for her, you know? I'd try to anyway. Gosh, I don't know."

Derek shook his head, "Shut up."

Spencer glanced at Derek, "Why?"

"You'd be an amazing dad. Shitty boyfriend though," Derek shrugged and Spencer paused, scooching over the seats to rest his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek glanced down at the dancer as he snuggled into his shirt, "Dude."

Spencer breathed out, "I was a jerk to you. All week. And for what? Because I didn't understand you-didn't give you a chance to communicate with me? You have every right to be mad at me right now."

Derek answered, "I'm not."

Spencer paused, "Really?"

"I'm fucking afraid of you, actually." Derek admitted.

Spencer looked back at Derek with heartbroken disappointment in his eyes, "Seriously?"

Derek nodded.

Spencer hissed, "Shit!" more frustrated with himself than Derek's ever seen him before. He pushed off of Derek's shoulder angrily and leaned against his side of the car, staring out of the window and shaking his head, "That's… I didn't want that at all."

"No," Derek replied, "It's good. Hopefully, I've seen you at your worst and it's something I hope I'll never have to witness again."

Spencer sighed, "You never will. I promise. I just feel so bad, man, you don't even know. I want to make it up to you, but I don't know where to start."

Derek let out a soft smile, "You don't have to do a thing for me, Pretty Boy. This whole mess would have been avoided if I explained myself that night. I hurt you. I did. And, I deserved most of the shit you flung at me for it."

Spencer turned to Derek, eyes large and full of regret, "_No, you didn't_. You wouldn't have said any of those things if I didn't lash out at you. We could have been happy. I ruined that, Derek! I'm just… fuck! I'm wishing you didn't feel anything for me, because all I do is hurt people. And, I don't want to hurt you! You're the last one I want to hurt!"

"Hell, I'm _glad_ you yelled at me that day! If you didn't, I would have been blindly following after you, letting you deny me over and over again. Dude, I would have given you everything I had and wouldn't think to question it no matter how many times you told me 'no'," Derek said, "You need time. You do. You're different from me, and there's nothing wrong with that! We feel things on a completely polar scale and I didn't accept that. But, now I do."

Spencer asked warily, "You sure about that?"

Derek chuckled easily, "Yeah. I kind of have to be. You're Dr. Spencer Reid from Las Vegas and I'm Derek Morgan from Chicago. We have nine years between us. I grew up with race wars and you grew up a prodigy. We've had different struggles and trials, our outlooks on life couldn't be more diverse if God wrote them that way! I mean we don't even share the same nationality! Man, I don't even know if you're Jewish or not! Do you celebrate Christmas?"

Spencer shrugged, "Depends on the year."

Derek answered, "Seriously? If I don't show up at my Mama's house by the Eve every year, I'm going have to pick my damn switch. I actually _had to_ two years ago when I showed up on Christmas day."

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Pick a switch? What does that mean?"

Derek replied, "That means I go outside, find a tree branch, and bring it to my mom so she can whoop my ass with it. Your mama never beat you with a stick?"

Spencer gave Derek a strange look, "No."

"See! This is the kind of shit I'm talking about," Derek sighed exasperatedly, "We were even brought up different. It's my fault for expecting more of you than you were willing to give, alright? It's my fault for assuming that we're going to feel things the same way at the same time. Where I see love, you see fear. I get that now. And I'm going to do everything I can to make _love_ something _good_ for you. I am still a firm believer that you can be happy for more than two days without it all crashing down on you," Derek took a breath, "I'm not afraid to love you. I'm not. I was before, but, you know what? Fuck it. I didn't choose it, but it happened. I care about you. A lot. And I know you care about me too."

Spencer smiled quietly, "I do."

Derek glanced down at Spencer, "Good. So, the rest, we can figure out."

Spencer moved his head up, locking eyes with Derek, "Yeah, we can."

Derek smiled softly and Spencer leaned closer to Derek's, pressing a kiss dangerously close to his lips and turning his head to the side to seal the deal before Derek leaned back, "…not yet. We kind of have to be on the same... _level_ first."

Spencer's eyes narrowed in a glare.

Derek spoke, "Are you about to throw another tantrum?"

Spencer mumbled, "…no."

Derek chuckled, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Spencer replied, "I don't need your body like that."

Derek smirked, "You totally do."

The cabbie leaned back, saying through the little window with his scratchy voice, "We've been stopped for two minutes now. You guys going to get out or…"

Spencer pushed at Derek's shoulder noncommittally, "Yeah, we were just leaving."

Derek reached into his back pocket, pulling his leather-bound wallet out of it and flipping it open, glancing at the ticker at the front of the cab to check the price. He leafed through it despite Spencer's protests and handed the money over to the driver through the window plus tip. They made their way out of the cab and when Derek stepped out, his vision nearly blurred from all of the flashing lights. They were on the Sunset Strip and in the midst of tourists, Spencer pointed to the building ahead of them which had the word VISTA plastered all over the front of it in giant, lit bulbs, "You got cab fare, so I'm paying for the tickets."

"Tickets for what?" Derek asked.

Spencer tugged on the arm of Derek's sweater, pulling him toward the long line, "The Vista Theatre. It's been here since the 1940's. The architecture here is so sound, it's insane and when no one's in the lobby, it echoes."

Derek paused, "Wow. Cool. Why are we here?"

Spencer shrugged, "Why not be here?"

Derek narrowed his eyes at his partner, "I. Don't. Know. Is this a trick?"

Spencer cockled his head to the side, confusion in his eyes, "No. Why would it be a trick?"

Derek answered, "Because, there's no way in hell Spencer Reid would take me out. He's said that before. Several times."

"What? You think this is a date?" Spencer started to laugh, "Please. I just wanted to show you something cool, you know? Get your mind off of the next challenge. Side by side is always the hardest."

Derek rolled his eyes, "Please, man. I'm not scared of no professional. I already look bad enough next to you. Add another and it's just gravy."

Spencer grinned, "Bull. You're scared to dance with two professionals next week. Admit that and I'll call it a date."

Derek glared at Spencer, "No, you won't."

Spencer chuckled, "Alright, I won't, but still. It's healthy. Get it off your chest. You're scared. Scared as a churchmouse in Hell."

Derek replied easily, "I will admit it if you go on a date with me."

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head, "No."

Derek folded his arms, "Ugh! Why not?"

Spencer grinned, "Shutting you down has become more entertaining than giving in."

"Yeah, back when you were getting the milk for free," Derek said under his breath.

Spencer asked, "What does that mean?"

Derek blinked, "You've never heard that phrase? 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free'?"

Spencer shook his head, "No."

Derek asked, "What hole have you been living in? I need to know."

Spencer folded his arms, "I'm not living in a hole!"

Derek looked around to see if anyone was listening before exploding out, "_Sex_ is milk and _buying the cow_ refers to a relationship! You know?"

"Oh… I get the analogy," Spencer replied with a look of realization on his face as he nodded slowly, "But, you're not a cow. You're a handsome man."

Derek sighed, pressing his fingers to his temples, "You know what**—**"

* * *

The theatre was playing Mary Poppins and Spencer shelled out the money for them, ushering them into a gigantic lobby with high ceilings. Yeah, Derek bets his ass that the echo in here is sick as fuck. The floors were marbled and the gold painted columns lining the room in a way that made it seem like it was the only thing holding the insides up. Derek felt a shudder go through him. It probably was. The building was all brick on the outside. The interior was filled to the brim with people, bodies clustered around the paintings, movie listings, and celebrity photos. Spencer nudged him briefly, "You get the seats. I'll get the popcorn."

Derek worried aloud, "There are a lot of people in here. Are you sure you don't want me to get it?"

Spencer glanced at Derek fondly, "I went into West Hollywood and let a scuzzy guy that smelled like piss and cocaine cut off a lock of my hair for drugs. I think I can handle a concession line."

Derek felt sick to his stomach at the visual that provided, closing his eyes and nodded, "You've got a point."

"I know," Spencer replied, patting Derek's shoulder before heading off into the crowd of people. Derek watched him walk, head high, stride determined. Dude knows what he's doing. He should, I mean, this is his territory. If he knows anything, it's the Los Angeles tour crowds. Spencer pushed through the bustling knot of people, but Derek didn't lose him. Not yet. He let his eyes travel down for a moment, settling on the man's rear. Derek whistled. God did a good job on that one, a 10-out-of-10, pat-you-on-the-back, hit-the-showers kind of good job. It looks just as plump and perky as he remembers. Flashes of memories brushed by him as his palms itched at the feeling of that butt under his hands. Derek remembers when Spencer first let him touch his butt. Spencer had arched into his chest, leaning back to let Derek kiss at his neck as his thin, agile legs straddled Derek into his couch. Then, his ex-boyfriend woke up and bitched Spencer out until he cried. Then, Derek had to follow Spencer into his room to pick up the pieces. Then, right there in that room, they'd spilled everything to each other**—**bared their souls. Derek felt himself fall for Spencer. He watched it all happen. For that one night, they were so happy. They had each other, they leaned on each other, dried each other's tears, swallowed their troubles with kisses and soothed their pain with laughter. Why did he let that slip away? Why, why, why?

Because they were on two different levels of emotional intimacy, that's why. Derek was on a 5 and Spencer was on a 3, and a team is only as strong as its weakest link.

Derek spared another glance at Spencer's butt. That ass came with a high cost. It really did. But, Derek would pay it again. Just… you know, after Spencer and he are emotionally equal. Which will happen. Eventually. Right? Right. Hopefully. And when Spencer finally jumps that wall he's built himself and admits his feelings, Derek's going to give it to him. He's going to give it to him _so hard_. He'll push Spencer into the bed and pound the living shit out of him. Shake the bed, crack the headboard, scratch the floorboards with how rough he was going to… fuck… it's been so long since he's had sex. Too long. Well, it was a month and a half, give or take a few days. At this point two months ago, he had ass on the _regular_. Ass on _tap_. More ass than he knew what to do with. Mind you, it was a cheating ass, but it was ass nonetheless. He was used to getting sex whenever he wanted it. That's just the way Derek's life was.

Then, came Spencer—King of the Cockteases. And within a few weeks, Spencer was stripping for him nice and slow, grinding on him, throwing it back like an overpaid whore, making sure he was the key feature in every naughty thought Derek's mind could possibly scrounge up. And now, Derek has to walk by him every day and withstand the temptation to toss him onto the nearest flat surface and rock his little over-read world. Spencer's fucking insane. He's in love with his job, he takes things way too seriously, he's afraid of technology, he's passionate about everything, and whenever he walks into a room every single person shuts the fuck up and watches him stride as their brains scream, "_Damn_, you fine." You don't get over a guy like _that_ quickly. You just don't. And Derek doesn't want to. He glanced back down to Spencer's rear. _Shit_. Now _that_ is an ass.

There was a sudden buzz in his pocket and Derek pulled his phone out, unlocking it and scrolling to the notification. It was a text message from Spencer. It read **[Stop staring at my butt, you perv].** Derek sucked his teeth angrily. How does he always know?! He typed back quickly** [i wasnt staring ok it was in my eye line and i glanced at it sue me for having sight].**

Derek shook his head of his previous thoughts, making his way into the theatre. It was big in there. And Derek means huge. There were seats everywhere, and they had some serious leg room which is fantastic for a man breaking six feet, but Derek didn't really see a screen. It looked like there was a stage in the front. Weird. Are they actually playing Mary Poppins, or is this going to be one of those strange-ass musical stage adaptations that take three hours of your life away. Yeah, that sounds like something Spencer would like. Singing Nazis. Mr. Ph.D enjoys the shit out of deep, psychological crap like this. Derek rolled his eyes, sighting a few free seats. He had to choose carefully. Front of the theatre means "_I actually want to watch this boring-ass play_". Middle of the theatre means _"I'm mildly interested in the play, but I'm also mildly interested in you_". And the back of the theater is certified make out row. There's no way Derek could choose anything back there. That's pretty much an invitation to sex. But, the front is an invitation to friendship, and that's not exactly what Derek's going for either.

Middle row it is!

Derek rolled his eyes and politely edged his way around a few people to score a seat in row 19. He sat down and wrapped his arm around the chair to his left, getting comfortable as he sunk into the fabric. It was strange in the way that it was surprisingly easy to melt into. The seats are filled with some sort of soft feathery downy type thing and throughout the whole sitting down situation, Derek felt like his ass was being cradled in a pillow. He shifted uncomfortably. No. This is not okay. Spencer had better be back soon, or Derek swears to God that he'll—

"Oh, my God… is that Derek Morgan?" a quiet voice whispered in the bustling theater.

Derek's ears piqued at the sound of his name. Crap. He's been spotted. No, no. He still has a fighting chance to stay under the radar. He'll just fiddle with his phone a bit, keep his head down, and they'll think he's just guy who _looks_ like Derek Morgan. Derek quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and started messing with something on it, pulling up old text messages and scrolling mindlessly until he heard:

Another voice, female, whispered back, "No, it's just some black guy."

Nice to know his ethnicity comes into play.

The male voice muttered back, "That is definitely Derek Morgan. I know my players. He won MVP this year. Played for the Bears for over a decade. Dude's a damned legend."

Derek tried not to smile and succeeded. Whomever this is is correct. He is a legend. Thank you for noticing. Derek scrolled through his mother's text messages. She'd texted him two nights ago, reminding him to floss. Ugh.

The woman whispered, "Well, if you're so sure, then why don't you say something to him? He seems nice."

"Eww, no," the guy hissed, "He's a fucking faggot."

Derek gritted his teeth as the guy continued, "He's been loving up on some andro-looking dude in this ballroom show he's doing. It's all over the news. It's disgusting. But, I mean, the other guy seems sweet enough. Got the long hair and big eyes and shit. It's easy to forget he has a dick."

Derek's fist clenched in his pocket, as he chanted a calming mantra to himself. He can't hit him. He _legally_ cannot hit him. Derek has a black belt in jujitsu. His hands are considered a lethal weapon. If he strikes, it will be considered assault and battery and he will go straight to prison. Derek clenched his fist harder, nails digging into his palms as the woman defended them, "That's not true! They're friends. Good friends. It's quite nice actually, two men being close like that, unafraid of same-sex intimacy because of how secure they are in their masculinity."

The man chuckled quietly, "Please. I hear they're doing it like bunnies when the camera's away, but they're not fooling anybody. You see the way they look in those pictures? Queers."

The woman replied, "That's not nice. And even if they are involved with each other, it's no business of yours anyway. Why do you care?"

"I don't," the man added, "But, it's being shoved in my face because of how surprised everyone is that this butchy football dude is now a cock sucking, fudge packing, lady boy, fag—"

"I got no butter or salt on it, because its gross when it gets all drippy," Spencer slid into the seat next to him, idly leafing through the bucket for a handful and glancing over at Derek, "You alright?"

Derek nodded distractedly as he heard the man laugh, "Oh, shit! There he is. Look at them on their little date, those fucking queers."

Spencer shoved a few popped kernels into his mouth, "You know, in the 1960's when this movie first came out, there was an uproar over Julie Andrews, but when it came time for the Broadway adaption, she wasn't even considered to play the role on stage in New York! I mean, the nerve of them, right?! She's like the best thing to ever happen to the big screen and—mmh!" Derek grabbed Spencer's face and pressed his lips to his partner's soft, warm, plush ones in a hard, determined kiss. He pulled Spencer's face close and really let him have it as Spencer's accepting lips opened pliably underneath his. The faint sound of the paper bowl hitting the floor was followed by the pip-pip of popcorn skittering around their feet. Spencer's hand came up to press against the side of Derek's neck impatiently as he deepened the kiss with a soft, breathy moan at the base of his neck. Spencer's eager tongue came in, running it along Derek's all warm and delightfully probing. Damn, this kid was into it. Whoa. Now his stubble it rubbing against his cheek nice and slow. Fuck. Mmm. Yeah. That's nice. That's really nice. That's fucking… _hnnn_… that's enough!

Derek pulled away and ran his thumb along his lower lip to catch the moist condensation caused by their mixed breaths. Yeah, he thinks he made his point.

Spencer breathed out a surprised laugh, gazing up at him through hooded eyes, "What was that for?"

"Jerk two rows up," Derek panted, "Called me a faggot."

Spencer asked, "And you kissed me because…"

Derek replied easily, voice raising a bit so the man could hear them, "Because I'm not ashamed of being attracted to another man. And the word faggot is demeaning. Especially to a professional quarterback with lots of money who could probably fuck another man's girlfriend better than he can."

Spencer snapped his fingers and chuckled, "Okay?"

* * *

It was chilly out two mornings later. The sky was dark and ominous, clouds thick and air muggy with the Pacific drift. Derek zipped his grew sweatshirt up a few inches of his collar and almost regretted wearing a tank top out of his house-almost. He would fully regret it, but the ego stroke he gets when Spencer's eyes run down his body in appreciation and blush that runs across his face as he looks away in embarrassment is pretty worth fifteen minutes of minor chill in the car on the way to the studio.

By the grace of God and God alone, they didn't get kicked out last week. Spencer's choreo was pretty intense emotionally and contributed to their low score, but since it was such a tear-jerker (and got the show a metric shit-ton of tweets and publicity), they were swept along with the winners. It was close, but their partnership pulled through. Derek felt the side of his lip quirk up in a small smile and rolled up the driver's side window against the wind, driving into the parking lot behind the building and sliding into the parking space beside Spencer's ancient off-grey Saturn. The dusty rear lights of the car flicked off as the engine wheezed out a silencing cough and Spencer wrenched the door open, hopping out and bopping his head. As he turned to lock the car door, Derek saw two white cords handing from the side of his face. He shook his head up and down and his shoulders swayed while he jimmied the key in the lock. Derek chuckled to himself. Dude was rocking the fuck out all by himself.

Derek opened up the door of his rental car and locked it behind him with the electronic lock, stuffing the keys in his pocket. Spencer was still jamming, pulling the key out of the sticky old lock. Derek knocked on the roof of Spencer's car to get his attention and Spencer jumped, pulling one of the cords out of his ear, "God, you're like a ghost these days! Jeez. This is twice now."

"I told you before, man, I'm part cat," Derek winked and folded his arms over the roof of the old clunker as he gazed back at his partner, "Meow."

Spencer replied, "No."

Derek nodded with a grin, "Yes."

Spencer said easily, "If I'm not allowed to feel you up during break, you're not allowed to make animal noises at me. It counts as seduction without means to an end and I refuse to accept it."

"_What_?" Derek scoffed, "That's not a rule."

Spencer folded his arms over the driver's side of the car, "It is now."

Derek chuckled, "It's a bullshit rule then."

Spencer combatted, "_You're_ a bullshit rule."

"That made no sense," Derek rebutted.

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Whatever. You owe me $7.50 for that popcorn you wasted last night."

Derek argued, "$7.50?! I gave you a free kiss! Do you know how much that's worth? I was on Ellen once, and you would be fucking surprised the dough people would cough up just to taste this chocolate."

Spencer pushed off of the car and headed away from it, "Well, it's overrated. And I expect my $7.50 by tomorrow at the latest, okay, cheepskate?"

"Imma pay you back in all pennies, just you watch," Derek replied, raising a finger, "Or, you know what? Maybe I'll write you a check!"

Spencer groaned, "You are a major pain in my ass, you know that. I hope this other professional reams the crap out of you."

The two men walked into the studio together chatting animatedly. Spencer was wearing that pair of Derek's basketball shorts he stole and another one of those cute little black shirts that hug his slender midsection. Derek himself was in a pair of sweats and a flat rimmed Snapback. It was clear pretty quickly who was dressing up for who. As they strode into the studio, Spencer asked him how Derek would feel about a second dancer nudging their way into their little Team Wild Card man-cave. Derek was indifferent about it at first mention. Walking behind him, complaining about the lack of concentration that was sure to end them, Spencer grabbed Derek's hat off of his head and placed it on his own the complete and total wrong way.

Derek turned to him and shifted it around his head until the brim was facing the back. Spencer looked up at Derek, "What?

"You were wearing it wrong," Derek furrowed his eyebrows, shaking his head and moving it again so that the brim faced front, "Well, that's not right either."

Spencer let out a sneeze and the hat flopped down his forehead. He pushed it over his brow and Derek tried to hard not to crush him in a hug. He was so cute in it. Hell, kid could have it if he wanted to. Spencer sniffed from under the hat, "Nevermind the hat. Are you sure you're ready for another professional in here? You sounded cocky a couple of nights ago, but you can change your mind. We can work something out if you're not okay with it."

Derek laughed, "Dude, are _you_? I can't imagine you giving up the reins of control in the studio."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Oh, please. I'm still the head choreographer. I'm still in charge, and you're still my bitch. I was just worried about your capability to share my attention."

Derek shoved Spencer playfully, "Fuck you, I share awesomely. I'm a pro at it."

"Mainly because you were the youngest of the Morgan clan, correct?" Spencer laughed back, ducking as Derek swatted at him.

Derek headed over to the barre, leaning against it, "Age meant nothing. I'm the man of the family, so everything gets approved by me. Besides, I'm not possessive like that. I don't get jealous over stupid shit."

Spencer followed him and stood in front of Derek with his hands in his pockets, "Then, what's the issue?"

Derek replied, "The obvious. I'm dancing with two professionals, I mean, jeez. That's some serious pressure to hold my own out there."

Spencer placed a hand at Derek's cheek, staring into his eyes soulfully, "Hey, come on. You're going to be great. You're a good dancer, Derek. Might even venture to say incredible."

Derek stared back at Spencer with a small smile, "Well, yeah, you'd think so. You 'molded' me."

Spencer raised an eyebrow, "That sounds vaguely dirty, but okay."

Derek clipped Spencer's chin, "You're the one that called me clay before our first show."

Spencer patted Derek's cheek, letting his hand fall, "That, I did. It was kind of mean now that I'm thinking about it, sorry."

"Are you kidding? It gave me hope. I thought I was only going to make it to second week, _maybe_ third with divine intervention. And here we are. Week Six, Side by Side challenge," Derek claimed, resting his hands on the barre behind him, "You're a miracle worker. Albeit, one with a great ass and a more than your fair share of attitude, but a miracle worker nonetheless."

Spencer nudged Derek with a shy smile, "Quit it."

Derek tugged his partner in by the edge of his shirt and wrapped his arms around him, "No. You're my cute little Spencer. You're so adorable. Look at that face, good God. You're almost disgusting."

"Derek, ugh! Come on, man," Spencer squirmed out of the hug and glared at him, face red with blush as he hissed under his breath with a wagged finger, "Cameras."

Derek pouted, "What, I can't hug you now, cutie? You're all for it on stage."

"No, I'm not! You're just clingy and I put up with it," Spencer rolled his eyes as Derek strangled him into another embrace, glancing at the clock on the wall, "_Aaaaaaand_, it's 8:47. He or she is late."

Derek winked, "Then, we're probably working with a female, Mr. Subject Changer."

Spencer raised his eyebrows, "Hey, you never know. He could be one of those guys that had no physical sense of time, ring any bells, _Derek_?"

"First of all: I'm never late. Everyone else is simply early." Derek shrugged, "Secondly: I'm kind of hoping we get to work with a woman. No offense, but if I have to deal with any more sweaty, smelly testosterone-covered balls in this room, I'm going to spontaneously combust."

Spencer folded his arms and added, "Unlike you, I have no preference."

Derek laughed, "I know."

Spencer reached out and smacked Derek on the arm, "I didn't mean like that. I meant like-"

The door opened and Derek and Spencer turned and watched a pair of mile long legs sheathed in black leggings ending right before the slender ankle and tipped with character shoes. Derek followed up her form as she entered the room. She was wearing a tight red spaghetti strap camisole under a fuzzy pink dance sweater cropped right above the waist. Designer Dolce sunglasses covered nearly half of her face, but left her large lips upturned in a smile as she took them off, revealing large green eyes.

Wow. She was gorgeous. And they were dancing with _her_. She grinned broadly, "Hey, Doc!"

The smile slipped right off of Spencer's face, his eyes widening comically as he breathed out, "Ah… Lila."

And right then, in that moment, Derek _felt_ more than heard the thumping sound. Something heavy and thick, hitting the wooden floor hard and fast. Yep. That would be unmistakable sound of the other shoe dropping.

* * *

**A/N This chapter ending is going to be completely rewritten by tomorrow afternoon. I didn't have time to perfect it. Once again, I'm sorry. I suck. Please continue to throw rotten fruit at me for the horrible build up.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	3. The Liar, the Snitch, and the Wardrobe

**A/N: This chapter is very short, but it's short for a reason.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre 2: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER THREE: The Liar, the Witch, and the Wardrobe

The beautiful woman jogged over to the two with perfect stance, blonde hair wafting behind her, muscles flexing in her leggings, and that rack. Jesus on a popsicle stick, that rack put Angela Basset to shame. As she approached the stock-still Spencer, she jumped giddily and threw her arms around his neck. Still in shock, Spencer stared straight ahead, eyes wide and blank as he reached up awkwardly and patted her back with one hand. She pulled away and nearly sang, "It's been so long! Four years! I haven't seen you since that wrap party, man. How've you been?"

A small puff of breath exited Spencer's lips as he stared into her large green eyes. He let out a small, unintelligible murmur.

Lila scrunched up her brow, "Huh?"

"I-I've been good," Spencer cleared his throat and fumbled for Derek's arm, grabbing it and pushing him in front of his body like a human shield, "This is Derek, my… uh... Derek, meet Lila."

Derek was kind of mixed emotionally, near laughing inside and near crying at the same time. Spencer told him at their first lunch that she had followed him around like a lost puppy after he did her a favor and he had to damn near pry her off of him. But, jeez. If you're going to be stalked, this gorgeous fucking Barbie doll made of pure sexiness is definitely the option Derek would pick. Television didn't do this woman justice. She was perfect. From her blonde locks down to her small dancer's feet, she was pristine. Derek doesn't stand a snowball's chance in Hell if he has to compete with her. But, he doesn't have to, right? Because Spencer and him are in a happy romantic relationship. Not. Derek kept his sighs in, hoping that she's gotten over the whole thing and everything will just be awkward. That's the best bet, right? Yeah. Oh, this was going to be weird - this _entire week_ was going to be weird. Lila reached out a hand, "Lila Archer."

Derek shook her hand gently, nodding, "Derek Morgan. Hey, I think I saw you in this movie last year with my ex. _September Rain_, right?"

She grinned, "Yes, indeed. How'd you like it?"

Derek held back his contempt as he nodded, "You definitely earned that… Golden Globe and… Oscar nominee."

"Why thank you, Derek," Lila started to laugh, patting his shoulder warmly, "Complimenting me already? I think we'll be good friends."

Dear God, no. This is the last time he falls for someone with exes of different genders. Ethan was already competition enough. Derek has no clue how to outshine both him _and_ Miss. Perfect. They're not even in the same ballpark. Spencer went on two separate sides of the spectrum here, I mean, damn. Derek clenched his jaw and stared over at her with a forced smile, "Totally."

Spencer quietly drifted over to the stereo, pulling the envelope out and waving it in the air, "If anyone cares. We do have a theme that we have to figure out, so…"

Lila laughed aloud, "Still a workaholic, then, huh?"

"Well… I… I wouldn't say I was a… yeah! Cool! Uh," Spencer gawked for a moment, blushing and pushing his hair behind his ears highlighting his crippling awkwardness as he nearly dropped the envelope. The dancer's hands were trembling lightly as he peeled open the envelope and pulled the card out with long, slender fingers. He stared down at it and said weakly, "You've gotta be shitting me. Rumba."

Lila jumped up and down, clapping, "Yay! I love the Rumba!"

Spencer quickly started to walk out of the room, handing Derek the card on the way and announcing, "I suddenly have to pee," before rushing out of the room.

Lila shrugged over at him as he left the room and explained, "He pees when he's nervous. Kind of like a Pomeranian does."

Derek replied easily, "I know. It's pretty cute."

Lila laughed, "Right?"

By the time Spencer had returned to the room, Derek and Lila were laughing it up. At least that's what it looked like. Lila was carefree and Derek was trying not to be self-conscious about this entire situation. Dammit all, she was actually really funny, sharp, witty, and had the sassiest attitude. They were so like-minded it was crazy. Apparently Spencer attracts similar kinds of people. Except in the looks department, because he really went the other way on that one. Where Derek is muscled, she's soft. Where Derek is large, she's slight. It's just… ugh. How? How even?

Turns out, four years ago, she had quit the show when offered an acting role. After that, she started honing her skill, much like Julianne Hough did. She expanded and got herself some serious recognition, not to mention a Globe two years ago. Girl was doing alright, grinning as she prodded for information on Spencer and how he was doing. There was something in her eyes when she said his name. _Doc_. As if she was sexualizing his brain, considering his multiple degrees arousing. It was very subtle, but Derek knew. She still had a thing for him. Fuck. To make matters worse, it was all over those tabloids that Jordan read a few months ago when she broke up with John Mayer over God knows what, so she was single now too. Where better to end up on a random Wednesday than with her old flame. Kind of. Not really. But still.

Spencer shut the door behind him, "I ran into Val, he said 'hi'."

Derek can't really blame her for taking a liking to him, he was quite cute. Spencer's smart, kind, hard-working, dependable. A thousand girls would kill to be with him. Good thing Derek's not the jealous type… right? Spencer stomped into the room, grabbing Derek by the arm and pulling him. He called out to Lila, "We're going on a quick break. I have to show Derek something."

Lila flashed one of her (literal) award-winning smiles, "Sure. When should I expect you back?"

Spencer yanked on Derek's wrist, "Oh, I don't know. About an hour or so."

Lila furrowed her brow, "An _hour_?"

Spencer added, "You know, Derek Hough is downstairs and he doesn't even know you're here. You should fix that."

Lila paused, "Uh… okay."

Spencer got them out of the room, pulling him up the steps without a word other than, "Crap. Crap. Crap!" Derek watched worriedly as Spencer dragged him up a second flight of steps, down Tristan's hallway and into the women's bathroom. He slammed the cold metal door and pushed Derek against it. His eyes were wild, hair looking as if his fingers were in it just moments ago, "We're in serious trouble and it's _all_ my fault."

Derek chuckled, "Okay, I think you may be overreacting. It's just Lila. She had a crush on you once upon a time, so what?"

"No, no, no. Derek, don't you see?!" he ran his hand down his face and pushed his hair back, "It's not _Lila_, it's what she _symbolizes_!"

Derek paused, taking in Spencer's erratic words in and replying, "Do you need an Advil?"

Spencer pushed away from Derek with his palms, "No… not yet. I just… I lied about something. Well, technically I didn't lie. I just didn't tell you some stuff and now it's coming back to bite me. Hard."

Derek folded his arms and glanced at his partner from across the linoleum. He didn't know whether or not to be upset or scared. Spencer had lied to him, withheld information, all that jazz. But, he was freaking out. Badly. He sighed, pressing his fingertips to his hairless head. Okay, first, he's going to help Spencer fix this mess, then he can deal with him later. Derek looked up at Spencer as he stood with his back to him, leaning on the ceramic sink, knuckles pale white against the pink, shiny object, "I forgive you. For now. Tell me what you did, and maybe we can get ourselves out of this."

Spencer sighed self-deprecatingly, "I really—fuck, man… dammit!"

"God…" Derek shook his head, "You really fucking stepped in it, didn't you?"

Spencer's shoulders sagged, "Understatement. I… I got a call. From one of the producers right after we made it through the first week. He was upset. Very upset. And I told him to shove it. So, they put the quickstep in for week two and-"

Derek raised his hand, "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Spell this out for me, now. I don't speak Irratic Genius-ese."

Spencer turned and glared sharply at Derek, "Remember when I told you that the producers only put us together to get views?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah."

"They didn't think we'd actually be _good_. When we did our first dance, they were furious. They didn't care about us, they just cared about what we could get them-a good intro. But, all of a sudden, here you are and here I am and we're together… and it's magic, like some sort of match made in Heaven. When we dance, it's beautiful, and they can't just kick us off. Not when we're so good. Not with all of the votes they're getting. Someone would smell a rat. So, I got a call from a producer telling me to make sure you ruined the next dance," Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose, "Man, they wanted us out. Badly. We were just supposed to be an attention-getter! A freak show before the main event! To ensure that we'd leave, they shoved the hardest dance in the entire competition at us the second week and told me to fuck you over, train you badly, choreograph something terrible, do whatever it took to ensure that we would be out of the competition the second week. By then, you had already spent the night with me. Your girlfriend had just broken up with you, you were a mess. I couldn't do that to you. Plus… I kind of had a crush on you. I refused and trained you as well as I could. I wasn't going to let you down. Not one bit. But, then the calls became more frequent. They were watching us. Watching me."

Derek pounded the side of his fist against the door, "Man, they were harassing you! Why didn't you tell me!?"

Spencer hissed back, "Because I had it under control! I didn't need your help, okay?!"

Derek chuckled loosely, "Like fuck, you didn't. I would have walked right up to the producers and-"

"Gotten us kicked off for misconduct, that's what you would have done," Spencer answered loudly, "You don't know what it was not to tell you. It was clawing at me, ripping me up inside. And it only got worse! You probably don't remember, but during week two, when you stumbled…"

Derek asked, "Yeah?"

Spencer got really quiet and looked down for a moment, "…you didn't lose count. I tripped you."

Derek took the words like a slap to the face, keeling back and yelling, "You did _what_?!"

Spencer said to the floor with shame, "I stepped on the edge of your pant leg and pulled you out of rhythm. I thought it would give the producers what they wanted, but you pulled yourself back and you did such a good job finishing the dance. It was spectacular how easily you put yourself back together. Thanks to how well I trained you and that spirit in you, we made it by with three sevens. Just enough to slide us through to the next round."

"So, that's why you didn't chew me out over the trip after we left the ballroom? That's why you didn't mention it?" Derek asked.

Spencer sighed, "Yes. Because it was my fault. After you pieced the dance together, I already knew that loosing count wouldn't be enough to send us home, so I held your hand and tried to get people to hate us, so they wouldn't vote us up. I'm sorry."

Derek turned away and faced the door, thumping his forehead against it, "You have to be fucking kidding me."

"But, listen! After that, I stopped listening to them. I sent the calls to voicemail. I acted as if nothing was wrong," Spencer added, shaking his head slowly, "And then, they gave us the Tango. They thought we didn't have it in us, and I decided that if they were so against our pairing, then we're going to make them pay for it. We were going to do the gayest, most sexual dance we could possibly manage. We were going to tear the roof down panel by panel, give it everything we got. And all the while, I was falling harder and harder for you. You had such spirit, such drive. I believed in you. I believed that we could win and take this all the way to the finals without a hitch."

Derek glanced back at Spencer, "So… all that stuff you said about changing the way people think with our Tango…"

Spencer finished, "100% true. Derek. I meant every word."

Derek breathed, "Shit."

"And then, we kissed," Spencer closed his eyes, "…I've never felt more alive in my entire life. No one's ever kissed me like that. Ever. I felt so… loved. And when we danced, you Tangoed the living _shit_ out of me. I wanted you so bad. Yet, while I knew our dating would be the world's biggest middle finger to the producers, I wasn't emotionally ready for something like that. I was already being pressured every day to push you out of my life, and my trust issues were blocking me at every turn… I just couldn't. Everything was happening so fast.

"Then, came the Waltz, which was clearly a side-slash. The producers told me that my first screw up was a warning, and with the insane Tango we did… they called it a 'strike'. And three strikes? That wasn't something I wanted to see. So, I tried _so_ hard to fuck you over. I choreographed the shittiest thing I could, but then you held me that Friday night. We spilled our souls to each other. I told you things I wouldn't tell a living breathing soul on Earth and in that one night, I trusted you more than I've ever trusted anyone in my entire life. And, I couldn't do it to you anymore. I couldn't. This dance. It was for your father. He deserved better-you deserved better. Strike two."

Derek sighed, "Holy cow."

Spencer continued, "And, it felt so good, throwing myself into another dance with you, showing the world what we were capable of. Yeah, you pissed me off a little bit before the show, but after we did that Waltz… I had to have you. We hooked up. Right there on the studio floor and it felt fucking incredible. There, I realized that meeting you made me stronger. It made me a man. It gave me something to fight for. So, I fought for us. But, the fight was hard. It was so…" Spencer's voice caught in his throat and Derek could just hear his sorrow, "At every turn, I could feel those producers breathing down my neck like loan sharks and I knew that if we did well next week, they would do something to throw us apart. Something awful. Then, I spoke with my mom and I listened as a doctor wrestled her away from the phone. I was so _stressed_, I was so _angry_ that I said things to you that I wish I could take back. Horrible things. Things that I didn't mean," Spencer wiped across his face, letting out a soft sniff, "I said that I _couldn't love you_… I'm so," Spencer covered his mouth with his hand as he whispered out wetly as a tear slipped through his fingers, "I'm so sorry..."

Derek raced over to his partner and pulled him close, holding him against his chest. Spencer's shaking fingers clung to Derek's shirt as Derek held the back of his head firmly in his hand, rocking them steadily, trying to physically hold Spencer together, "Are you kidding? _I'm_ sorry, man. I didn't know. I had no idea you were under all of this pressure. Come here."

Spencer sniffed, "It's all my fault. That last dance I choreographed. It was too much. It was way too much. And now we're out. We lost. And this is what they're doing to us. They're giving us Lila."

Derek asked, "What's wrong with Lila?"

"What do you think, Derek?" he said into his shirt, "Another lie."

Derek paused, "…another lie? Jesus, Mr. Honesty. Is brown your natural hair color, or am I in for another surprise?"

Spencer chuckled wetly, "No. I'm a brunette."

Derek added, "Good. I was gonna say… dying your pits is a bit too much."

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes and said abruptly, "Listen. I'm trying to explain here."

Derek held up his palms, "Carry on. I won't stop you."

Spencer continued, "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to ever see her again, I mean, why would I? She left the show ages ago, and it's not like it would be any big deal and—"

Derek cut Spencer off calmly, "I understand. Now, fast forward, skip the excuses, and press play."

Spencer started nervously, hands wringing again, "When we were talking about her earlier before our first dance, I said that I let her go because she liked what I did for her more than she liked me. I said that I wished I reaped some of the benefits... and that's where I lied. I did. I totally did. For like two weeks straight."

Derek's eyes widened, "W-what? You hooked up with Lila? Why didn't you tell me then?"

Spencer worried, "I regretted it when I was with her, and I knew it wasn't right. I just didn't want you to think I was an asshole for taking advantage. You and I had just met at the time, and I was so sure you'd never meet her, and now this is just one big mess, because now she's back. She's downstairs and… shit. I think she's still into me. Derek, what do I do?"

Derek shrugged, "Brush her off. It ain't hard. She's a big girl, she can take it."

"She can take—_dude_!" Spencer grabbed Derek by the collar and dragged him in, "Have you met Lila?! She's _insane_! She'd jump into a pool with a serial killer stalking her, for no reason other than she feels like swimming. If I brush her off, she's going to take it as a personal challenge."

Derek laughed out at Spencer's misfortune, "Wow, bitch is cray. Sucks for you," Derek paused his laughter and stared Spencer down, "I mean… it does, right? You don't still want to get with her?"

Spencer replied confusedly, "Of course not. Why would you even ask that?"

Derek answered, "Well, technically you're single. We're not a thing, remember?"

Spencer waved his hand, "That's only because with everything going on right now, it's too complicated."

Derek grinned, "So, you still want us to be a thing?"

Spencer glared at him, "Doesn't matter, now does it? Until you're no longer my student, what we feel is irrelevant. That doesn't mean that it doesn't exist. I like you, you like me, we want to fuck each other, and we're kind of in love—and by love, I mean, heavy _heavy_ like, because that's a really big word and I can't just throw it around."

"Uh oh, Pretty Boy," Derek winked, "You _heavy_ _like_ me."

Spencer blushed and looked down with a small smile, "Yeah. I do. And I'm not going to mess our chances up when a sexy blonde dancer walks by."

Derek asked, "Sexy?"

Spencer released Derek's collar and folded his arms, "You have to admit. She's shaped very nicely. And she smells pretty. And I have been previously acquainted with her nether regions-in which does things I still consider make believe."

Derek sighed, glancing down at Spencer, "So… you're into her?"

Spencer shook his head, "Hell no. Did you miss the 'insane' thing? It doesn't matter how hot she is, I wouldn't survive her. I can't keep up."

Derek raised an eyebrow, prodding, "And?"

Spencer completed, "And I have a thing for you, so… yeah. Off the table."

Derek asked his partner, "Are you sure?"

Spencer nodded, "Completely."

Derek sighed out, "Good, because I was going to get all Taylor Swift if you said you were going after her."

Spencer snorted out his laughter at Derek's statement, "Are you okay with the fact that me and Lila…"

"Dude, yeah. I can't be mad at you for that, man, I would tap that in an instant if I had the chance," Derek replied, leaning forward, "Speaking of… what 'make believe' things went down? I want to know because of reasons."

Spencer gasped, "I can't tell you that!"

Derek nudged him twice, "Spencer, we're bros, right?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah."

Derek added, "And the Bro Code clearly states that any past rendezvous is fair game when it comes to details. We can't judge her, we can't judge you. You don't have to spill. But, if you do. Bro Code allows it."

Spencer folded his arms, "Why do you care so much?"

Derek let out a sly smile, "It's hot. That's why I care."

"Weirdo," Spencer blushed and answered, "I went down on her in her dressing room. Thrice. And one time… I touched her boob."

Derek jumped and laughed, smacking Spencer's shoulder, "_What_? Fucking get it, kiddo!"

Spencer added, "There was a bra involved, but it totally counts because I saw nipple. Kind of. The outline of it."

Derek wrapped his arm around Spencer's shoulder, "Oh... she never wanted you to hit, then."

Spencer sighed, responding as he hugged Derek's waist, "Yeah, she did, but I declined."

Derek's face fell, "I never thought I would say this to you of all people… but boy, you stupid."

Spencer rested his head on Derek's shoulder, "I felt bad enough with my tongue up her... _you know_. Even though it was so good… I just couldn't. The guilt was too much."

"You passed stupid, man. You are _dumb_," Derek shook his head, "You were _right there_. You had every opportunity. The panties were yours, wrapped in a bow. And your dumb ass said what?"

Spencer sighed, "I said 'no'."

Derek smacked his forehead, "You… said… 'no'. And now, through some strange miracle, she's back and she _still_ wants you to get it. Man, you must have given her the best head of her life and you didn't give her the D when you had the chance. I oughta slap you on principle. You gotta handle your shit in the bedroom, or she's going to either run off or expect it later. That's the way life works. Trust me, I would know."

Spencer asked, "What exactly… is 'the D'?"

Derek blinked, "Oh, honey. How did you even get her interested in the first place?"

Spencer paused, "Wait, wait. She's still interested? That wasn't a figment of my imagination?"

Derek replied, "Interested? Man, she showed up in leggings and lipstick. To a rehearsal. And the way she looks when she talks about you… I know that look. It's on my face every day. It's the Spencer's Got You Whipped face."

Spencer started to smile, "I have you whipped?"

"Like a naughty stead, baby." Derek leaned into Spencer and kissed his forehead, "But, you have her whipped as well, so you should probably let her down gently."

Spencer's smile widened under the kiss, "I won't have to. I'm going down to the Producer's office and giving them a piece of my mind. Right now."

Derek asked, "Seriously?"

Spencer nodded, "Yep."

Derek placed his hand on Spencer's shoulder, "That's a really bad idea."

Spencer grinned up at him, "I'm aware."

Derek cuffed his chin lovingly, "Need a buddy?"

"I've been working on my trust, and even though I'm nowhere near where you need me to be, I know more than anything that I don't need a buddy," Spencer replied, curling into Derek's chest for a moment, "I need _you_."

* * *

**A/N: Le gasp! Short chapter? Oh noes! What's going to happen next?! I guess you'll have to find out next Sunday.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	4. The Ray J to Your Kim Kardashian

**A/N: Happy Superbowl Sunday, Americans!**

**I didn't watch it, because I don't give a fuck about neither football nor Bruno Mars. According to my very loud, very drunk dorm-mates, the Seahawks won. Whoever the fuck they are. Go Seattle, I guess.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER FOUR: The Ray J to Your Kim Kardashian

Spencer and Derek got right into Spencer's car with their game faces on… that is until the car stalled three times in a row, Derek pulled Spencer out of the car, shoved him into the passenger's side of his rental and proceeded to get directions to the place where they were going to do this _supposed_ verbal asskicking. There was traffic on the Boulevard and they had about forty minutes left until Lila starts to get suspicious (if she's not already wary of something strange going on). Spencer pointed ahead to each street, giving Derek notice moments before each turn, causing them to break at least three different road violations. It was by God's will alone that they actually made it to the DWTS Headquarters building without getting pulled over.

The dancer rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and opened the door after they parked, hopping out of the car and making his way to the front door with his fists balled up at his side. Derek had to pull him back one more time, "Classy and calm. We're keeping it classy and calm, dude."

Spencer glared at the front door of the office building, "Class my ass. They've messed with us for the last time."

Derek sighed, "You know they probably have bodyguards, right?"

Spencer continued to glare at the door, "They do, but you're bigger than like two of them, so I think I'll take my chances."

Derek pulled Spencer back again, "Alright, how about we handle this another way? I'll go first into the building. You won't yell. We'll come up with a plan that we and the producers both agree with. Sound good?"

"Oh, so your plan is to just wuss out?" Spencer said incredulously, giving Derek a side-eye, "Seriously?"

Derek shook his head, "No, we're not wussing. We're taking the higher road and compromising instead of pushing forward like barbarians. We're going to be the better men."

Spencer pushed past Derek, heading for the door, "Yeah, I've played this game before. Nice guys finish last, they always do."

Derek took Spencer's elbow once more and continued on his way to the door, "Yet the bad guys get handed the short stick at the end."

Spencer pulled his arm out of Derek's, turning to him, "Where the hell do you get off being so wise?"

Derek chuckled, walking ahead of him, "I've been through shit like this before. I know how to handle fat cats. Trust me. I've seen a lot of league players get fired for having the attitude you've got. Just take my advice. Calm. Classy."

"Ugh. Fine, Mr. Right All The Time," Spencer frowned, scampering his way up to meet Derek's footsteps. Once they'd opened the seemingly plain doors, inside it seemed even plainer. There was one desk right at the center of the room and around it to either side was a large set of staircases that descended behind high, blank walls with nothing but the company logo on them. It was kind of cold style-wise. No plants, no color. All there was in terms of decoration was a gigantic set of windows on the east and west side of the building, crowned in white to match the white brick on the outside. It was cold temperature-wise as well. Probably set to the low degree to keep the hearts of the administrators on an even frozen level.

Derek found himself wishing he had worn something more formal, if not for the warmth, to seem at least a little authoritative so he can be taken more seriously than a large man in a tank top. He walked up the desk, Spencer in tow and approached the secretary with a stern look in his eyes. He had one mission and one mission only: get back on a level playing field that seemed to be shared with all of the other contestants.

The secretary sat, bored and weary, clicking away on her latest model software. Her hair was as white as the walls around her and she smelled vaguely of after-dinner mints. Derek approached her and placed his hands on the desk, reading her name tag to give her as respectful a greeting as he could under the circumstances, "Hello… Doris. I would like to know if your executive producer is in?"

She ceased her typing and glanced up at him through her bifocals with aged eyes and a no-nonsense attitude, "Do you have an appointment?"

Derek paused, "…not exactly. But, we've got some urgent business to discuss."

"We?" she asked, glancing around him to see Spencer standing with his arms folded and his expression forced into a calm smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Oh, Doc is with you. It's nice to see you, kiddo. How are you doing?"

He sighed, "Dismal. I'd be better if I could see Ryan upstairs. I've just got a quick question."

Doris started to smile toothily, "That's perfectly fine… _you_ can go on up. He told me to expect you today anyway. Your guard dog, not so much."

Spencer gestured to his partner, "We're a package deal. I go up, he goes up."

Doris chuckled to herself, turning back to her computer, "If that's what you want I'll page him, but I don't know if he'll be too happy about it…"

"That's kind of the plan," Spencer took Derek's arm and pulled him toward the stairs before Doris could say another word. He led Derek to the large staircase to the right side and started his way up it. The steps were steep and thick glass, seeming to extend forever when Derek glanced up them and he took a worried breath. How do those rich fat cats walk this shit every day? There has to be some sort of hidden escalator in these or something, because Derek bets his life that "Ryan" the Executive Producer is not going on a bi-daily hike just to get to his office. Derek turned and looked down, clutching at the stair handles. Oh, yay. Perfect. He was already too high up.

Spencer tossed a worried look over to Derek, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Derek huffed, making his way up the glass steps, "Just not a fan of heights. I think it's the big guy thing. The harder they fall, you know?"

Spencer let out a laugh, a grin spreading across his face, "Seriously?"

Derek shook his head, breathing heavily, "Yeah. But, that's the first smile I've seen from you in two hours, so… that's helping."

Spencer placed his hand tentatively over his lips and rolled his eyes as he nudged Derek's side, "Derek! Not now."

Derek chuckled breathlessly and followed behind Spencer as they finally cleared the steps. Up on the top side of the ceiling was a cavernous hallway filled with doors and a light halfway through it as if there was a doorless common area ahead. The floors were the same thick glass, but they were misted through so that you couldn't see what was below them thank God. There were lights built into the ceiling every other meter or so and the walls were stark white. Not ones for color, these people. Derek got another rush of chill down his spine. Apparently not ones for heat either.

It was soundless inside. He couldn't hear anything at all and the quietness was actually bringing this loud ringing into the hallway as Spencer glanced down it, pushing his hair out of his face. Derek watched as the soft curls fell back along his neck and Spencer's finger trailed warmly across Derek's knuckles and he pointed, "This way."

"You know where his office is?"

Spencer replied, "Oh, yeah. Trust me, this isn't my first altercation. You should have seen him after the Toby thing."

"Was he worse than now?" Derek asked.

Spencer scoffed, making his way forward into the dimly lit hallway, "Hell no. He called me a worthless druggie and a cold blooded murderer. From him, it was cute."

Derek held in a laugh as they traveled down the walk, "Why is he so serious about all this? I mean it's just dancing."

"Excuse me?" Spencer stopped Derek with a hand across his tank top covered chest, "Just. Dancing? Derek, for people like you, it may be harmless fun, but to other's… it's life. It's what gets me up in the morning. It's what gives me purpose. It's never a just."

Derek raised his palms, "Sorry! Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"I know," Spencer replied, easing off on Derek and continuing forward, "Just don't say that to him. He's a dancer_—_was one anyway. In his eyes, we're tearing apart everything he's ever believed in just by existing. We're breaking the rules, snapping everything in half every time I pull you onto the hardwood. He wants nothing more than for us to be eradicated. We're blasphemy to him."

Derek followed after Spencer and sighed, "Fuck. He must really hate us."

Spencer laughed tonelessly, "With a burning firey passion." Spencer glared down the door at the very end of the hallway that they were quickly approaching, eyes on the misted glass. They got closer and closer to the door in silence, the cold room ratcheting up the tension by a factor of one billion. As they reached it, Spencer took a deep breath and looked to Derek. Derek looked back, smiling tentatively. He felt a hand curl in his and looked down to see his fingers linked with Spencer's. Derek gave his frail hand a squeeze and Spencer gave Derek a long, full stare back, breath catching when Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. Derek winked at him, whispering, "Kick his ass, sweetheart."

A small smile etched its way onto Spencer's face as he released Derek's hand and raised a fist to knock on the cold glass door.

"Dr. Reid," a deep voice uttered from the other side of the glass, "What a pleasant surprise. Please. Come in."

Spencer pushed the door open in one swing, and there he sat, "Ryan". Behind a large glass desk sat a smug looking elder man with dark rimmed glasses and sort cropped hair peppered with grey. He wore a smarmy grin and with a glance in his aged green eyes that held more control than Derek's ever seen in his life as he sat in front of a wall to wall window looking out into the town. The crow's feet pulling into his temples seemed to hold up his strong glare as his eyes traveled along the two men and lingered on Derek's form. "Ryan" sat judging him in his three piece suit and well-combed stringy hair. He didn't seem like the type of man to threaten the living shit out of a young dancer he employed but, hey. Looks can be pretty damned deceiving. Derek saw through his shit. Right through it all the way into his cold eyes. There was so much hate in them. Derek's been looked at that way before. He almost wants to pull Spencer back and seal him out of this room never to return. This man is not allowed to stare Spencer down like that. Ever. A part of Derek wanted to surge forward, grab him by his Dolce suit jacket, and punch until his knuckles hurt.

At that moment of silence, Spencer shrugged and strode his way into the cold, antiseptic office, "I wouldn't say the surprise was pleasant."

"I'm not so sure about that." Ryan grinned toothily from his side of the desk, hands folding over his assorted papers, "Did you get the gift I sent you?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, "I think I'd remember you being so uncharacteristically kind, so I'm going to go with 'no'."

Ryan chuckled darkly, "Sure you did. She must have made her way into your rehearsal room already. Ah… what's her name?" Spencer watched, flinching slightly as Ryan stalled his laughter and rasped out, "Oh, right. _Lila_."

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Ryan, "Is this some sort of sick joke to you, you conniving little fuc-"

"Whoa!" Derek stepped into the room, placing his hand on Spencer's shoulder, "Okay. How about we both calm down for a second and talk this out like men, alright?"

Ryan feigned surprise, "Ah, loverboy's speaks! Just the man I wanted to see, too."

Derek paused, "…really?"

Ryan clapped with a large grin and pointed towards Derek, "Yes! I'm assuming you're in here taking poor little Doc's back, right? Making sure his bark doesn't outweigh his bite? Providing moral support?"

Derek folded his arms over his chest, "So what if I am? I shouldn't need to, but you seem to have pushed us to this point."

Ryan leaned forward on his glass desk, cufflinks glinting off of the glass of his desk, "Hey, hey, hey. I already told your beloved instructor over here. He can end these little encouraging calls any time he wants."

"Yeah, if he gives in to you and throws the competition," Derek answered, "And… no offense, sir, but that's just not fair. You see, Spencer and I dance really, really well together. We're good. And we've got a shot at winning. Why would we give that up? We're so-"

Ryan began to laugh, resting his head in his hands, "You just don't get it, do you?" Ryan looked up at them, "You think you're an actual team because everyone loves you? Well, I've got news for you, Mr. Quarterback, your little application was cute. The way you harped on and on about seeing Doc here on television and deciding that you wanted to try your hand at ballroom dancing because of how much he inspired you? He was your little dance hero. You idolized him. Just adorable."

Spencer turned and looked up at Derek, "…your application was about that?"

Derek shuffled, "Maybe."

Spencer blushed and pushed his hair behind his ear nervously, "Oh. That was nice of you."

"Nice of him?!" Ryan interjected, "It was _hilarious_ and me and the Board of Directors? We laughed our asses off at it! We wanted nothing more than to chuck it aside, but… you know, this show isn't doing the best rating-wise. Well, it _wasn't_ anyway. And I thought to myself… 'Self, what if instead of throwing this overeager football player into the reject pile, what if we just… use him for something else. Something we could benefit from.'" Ryan continued, "I mean, you clearly weren't going to be very good. All you had was passion and lots of it, and the way you stomped down the football field almost guaranteed early elimination. You wouldn't be much of a show at all. But, you had a cult following of football fanatics and fan girls_—_you were too valuable to give up. We decided that if you weren't entertaining enough, you just might become something shocking to look at instead, so we wondered how much we could profit by buying in to this stupid little same-sex trend going around these days. Frankly, we needed the ratings desperately enough to even consider it. So, we paired you with your hero, who also happened to be our most rebellious little tyke, and sat back to watch. It would be the perfect opening for a premiere. Just right for a kicker. Aww, look at the two men trying to dance together and failing at seeming graceful. At the very least, our views would skyrocket. No one would believe it until they saw that atrocity. We'd kick you out as quickly as we could, just as we've gotten eyes on the other, much more qualified competitors. It was a seamless plan.

"Or, so we thought," Ryan cut a glare at Spencer, "Doc, I don't know what you did with him, but he came out twirling you like a damned Disney prince and we were not amused. Not in the slightest. Damn it all, we should have paired him with Val or Gleb, someone with a more masculine body type, someone who wasn't you. The two of you don't even look like a same-sex pair when you dance. I don't know how you do it, Doc, but you manage to move just like a woman does."

Spencer spat out, "It's a gift. _Sir_."

Ryan sighed, "And that's the attitude that got you right where you're standing right now. We told you to bring him down. We had no more use for him. But, you with your little schoolboy crush; you wouldn't let it go. You defied a simple command, and why? Because you wanted to sleep with him?"

Spencer leaned out of Derek's touch and hissed, "Shut up!"

Derek pulled him back by his shoulder and Ryan chuckled, "Why should I? It's not like you haven't already tossed yourself all over him like a cheap whore. Tell me, where is it you go during your breaks to make them so long? Hmm?"

Spencer's fists clenched at his sides, gritting through his teeth, "None of your business."

"Oh, that's not true. It is my business. Especially when it's done on my property," Ryan smiled sickly, "That Tristan was awfully accommodating after a raise in his paycheck—told me all sorts of things to keep Ashley in the competition one more week."

Spencer growled, "He wouldn't have said anything to you. He promised, he's_—_"

Ryan laughed, "He's a kid, Dr. Reid. He does whatever I want him to do."

Spencer muttered under his breath, "Bastard."

Ryan continued on, "After he told us about your little love nest, we decided to bend a few tiny little guidelines why we were at it. For you two specifically, of course. Good thing you're so up to snuff with the rulebook, Doctor, watching the clock when you broke into our studios that night. That was a cute little cardigan, by the way. Such a shame you cry your way through sex. Even more of a shame that you're such a slut."

Derek's eyes went wide. He couldn't have seen that. He couldn't have. Spencer told him the cameras were off. They had to be off.

"Derek, you seem surprised," Ryan continued, holding up a disc covered in plastic, "You really shouldn't. I told him that we were watching you. It's not my fault he hadn't told you the same." Ryan glanced over at Spencer, "Now, Doctor, those little notches on your arms are quite gruesome. You really should have covered those up for the camera. They don't photograph well. Especially with your lover kissing his way up your neck. It's just not proper."

Spencer started to shake, Derek felt him tense to lunge forward. He could feel Spencer's anger pouring out of him like rivulets of rain. Whatever Spencer felt, Derek matched it six times over. He wanted to kill this smarmy dick, sitting there so calmly, holding up their sex tape as if it weren't the strings holding their reputations from crashing to the ground. He felt sick to his stomach. This man had watched them together, kissing, holding each other close, patching themselves together, stroking at their wounds and licking at their pain. What they had done was so personal, it wasn't for anyone to see, the way they'd opened up to each other. That night, their bodies collided where their souls left off.

Ryan started to chuckle again, "It's almost comical how you two came up here, all prepared to tell me off, to rebel," he broke into a guffaw, "It's just plain laughable. I mean…" his laughter slowed and he glanced right into Derek's eyes, moving to look at Spencer as he replied, "You didn't actually think you could win, did you?"

Derek and Spencer were shocked speechless.

"I've got a proposal. Take it or leave it," Ryan leaned forward, "You two go back to your studio, write the world's worst dance with one of Doc's many, many, _many_ ex-lovers, and get the hell off of my stage. If you don't… this little guy," Ryan held up the disc, "Is going _straight_ to CNN, do not pass 'Go', do not collect $200. You understand?"

Derek breathed, "You can't do this."

Ryan grinned, "I can. And I will. Do you want to test that theory? Your beloved Spencer did. And look at where he is now."

Derek shook his head, "That_—_"

"Good day, gentlemen," Ryan replied, "I expect results."

Derek interjected, "But—"

Ryan solidified, cold green eyes locked on Derek's, "Good. Day. Gentlemen."

Derek guesses that was it. What other choice do they have than to except their fate. He slowly made his way out of the room, tugging Spencer along by his wrist until Spencer pushed his way past Derek and strode up to Ryan's desk, "Do you get your kicks doing this shit, huh? Is there some sort of sick, twisted little part of you that enjoys tearing people's lives up and treating other human beings as if they're playthings?" Spencer took the stapler off of Ryan's desk and dropped it onto the hard floor, a loud thud splashing out, "Do you like that? You like being a cruel little fucker, huh?" Spencer leaned over Ryan's desk and pushed the papers off of the side of it as Ryan watched with an unmoving smile on his face so fake that a child could have drawn it on with a Sharpie.

Derek's eyes widened. Oh, shit. Spencer has officially combusted. He must have taken a lot of shit to fuel an explosion like this.

Spencer ripped a pen off of the table and threw it at the wall, leaning over the table and hissing into his face, "You like fucking things up?! You like getting your way?! Well, let me tell you, _sir_, you don't get to do that! _You don't get to be a satanic little __**shit**__, okay?! You don't get to be a fUCKING_-"

Whoa! Okay. As entertaining as indulging Spencer's little meltdown was, he had to be pulled away before he does something they both regret. Derek grabbed Spencer around the waist and dragged him back as Spencer pointed fingers and started yelling, red in the face as he screeched out, "_You're a fucking piece of shit, that's what you are! You're a cretin and you're a bitch, because you use people like they're fucking pawns, you low down, dirty, grimy, foul, insolent, malicious, sociopathic, discourteous, pestiferous little fucking_-" Derek closed the door behind them and Spencer banged on the glass, "_You're a cruel fucker! You're the most vile fucking human being on the fucking planet and I hope you fucking choke on your fucking lies, you fu-"_

"Spencer." Derek sighed, pulling him away from the door as Spencer clawed at the air and continued to swear as loudly as he possibly could, "Spencer. Spencer!"

Spencer collapsed against Derek's arms into weak threats and tears of frustration as he crumbled to the ground, hissing out, "_No… no… no… no… no… it's all my fault, no…_"

Derek held him closer and Spencer cried out, "I can't do it. I can't let you go. I can't…"

"I can't let you go either, kiddo," Derek placed Spencer's head into the crook of his shoulder, "But, we don't seem to have a choice here. If this isn't our last week together, we're going to be one of _those_ celebrities with a sex scandal. We're going to be famous for all the wrong shit, okay? You're going to be known for seducing your student instead of the fifteen thousand _incredible_ things you've done. I won't let you do that. I won't let you ruin yourself."

Spencer clutched to him, breathing into his shirt, "No. I can't fail you. You have so much potential. You deserve to be recognized. _We_ deserve to be recognized. We're so good together and this whole competition would be a sham if we didn't do our best."

Derek sighed, "Man, this isn't _Dancing With the Porn Stars_, okay? I don't care how comfortable you are with this shit getting out, but I don't want to be on the news like that. I'm unsure if you remember, but… I'm not exactly Out. This shit would ruin me way more than it ruins you."

Spencer pulled away from him, "Wait, all of this is because you don't want to be Outed?"

Derek shook his head, "Not all of it, just a small piece. I'm okay with my sexuality on a personal level, but… ain't nobody gotta know all that about me."

Spencer folded his arms moodily, "So, you don't want people to know that you screwed me?"

"No! No, I do! It's just…" Derek placed his head in his hands, "It wouldn't have been that big a deal if we had publically dated first! But, since we didn't, this whole thing is going to make us look like a bunch of horny little boys who can't keep it in their pants for more than a few weeks. I'm going to look like the dude who banged his hot teacher! No one knows that we've been romantic with each other; confiding in each other. No one knows that we're in a relationship-"

Spencer raised his palm, "Whoa now. We're in a _thing_, okay? Thing. T-H-I-N-G."

"Fine, then. No one knows that we're in a thing," Derek corrected himself, continuing on, "No one knows our story, and frankly, they don't give a fuck. Not one fuck, okay? We wouldn't be a couple to them. We'd be a scandal. Now, Ryan in there knows what the fuck he's talking about. Releasing that thing would be the end of both of us. So, we've got to bring this competition to an end. We have no other choice. We've got to stop, Spencer… we've got to stop."

Spencer reached up and cradled Derek's face in his hand, "I know."

Derek added, "_And_ we have to deal with Lila in our faces all week."

Spencer dropped his head to rest on Derek's chest, "Then there's that."

Derek patted Spencer's shoulder, "…on a completely unrelated topic, do you think Ryan would let us keep the sex tape?"

Spencer smacked Derek's arm, "You can't be serious."

Derek chuckled out, "Why not? It's probably awesome. I mean, I am totally the Ray J to your Kim Kardashian, except I'm not a jealous dick and I'm way better in bed."

Spencer rolled his eyes, "Derek, I can't believe you're joking about this."

Derek explained seriously, "I'm not. I'm so legit, like… I want to see what it looked like. It's probably really hot too. Ebony and Ivory, coming together in a beautiful piano concerto."

Spencer sighed, "Ebony and Ivory? Is that what you call us in your head?"

"No, those are just my porn names for us. Since we might be headed down that road, I figured we'd need them," Derek replied easily, wiggling his eyebrows, "Guess who's Ivory?"

Spencer placed his head in his hands, "Derek, please stop."

Derek chuckled, pulling Spencer up off of the ground, "Alright, alright. Don't have a cow. I'm just trying to lighten the mood a little bit."

Spencer stood and brushed off his shorts, "I appreciate that. I do. I'm just a little scared for us."

"A little scared?" Derek scoffed, "Dude, I'm terrified."

Spencer glanced up into Derek's eyes worriedly, "Derek…"

Derek answered, "Yeah?"

Spencer asked, "When we drop the competition, will you move back to Chicago?"

Derek sighed, reaching forward and brushing Spencer's hair out of his eyes, "Yeah. I will. I mean, I'm living in a hotel right now, those things don't really have a lease on them. Plus, my whole life is in Illinois, my family, my work, all that jazz."

Spencer hung his head, "…oh."

Derek stepped towards Spencer and cradled his face in his hand, "But, I will visit the heck out of you, alright? Soon, you'll be sick of me."

Spencer let out a bashful, self-deprecating smile, "Yeah, right…"

Derek chuckled, "Hey, kid. I'm not all talk. When I say I'll be there, I mean it. I'm not leaving you. Maybe I'll visit a couple of days a month. Crash at your place. Steal your wi-fi."

Spencer started to laugh, "But, I'm already stealing my neighbor's wi-fi."

Derek asked, "Do you remember the passcode?"

Spencer replied easily, "KYL-lowercase 'I'-4K89V-lowercase 'z'-7G."

Derek blinked, "…"

Spencer shrugged, "I don't forget things."

Derek nodded slowly, "That's really creepy."

Spencer spoke, "I've been told."

Derek added, "Kind of turns me on a little too."

Spencer paused, "That's new."

Derek answered, "Yeah. Probably is."

* * *

"Stretching. Let's get to it. Derek, you have a lot to learn. Lila… you know what to do. Barre. Both of you."

Lila winked at Spencer and leaned against the barre, biting her red lips as she giggled, "Ooh, someone's feeling bossy today."

Derek replied, "He's bossy every day."

Spencer pushed his hair behind his ears nervously and clapped his hands twice, barking out, "Barre!"

A shudder of arousal went down Derek's spine. It kind of turns him on when Spencer gets all strict on him. Not to mention how impatient he's going to get with Derek in the middle of their lessons while teaching a new dance. According to Lila's behavior, he isn't alone in his thoughts. Ever since they got back to the studio, she's been flirting so hard, she deserves a medal. She even did the whole "Oops! I dropped my hairband, let me just bend down right in front of you in these form fitting leggings so that you notice my ass" bit. It seemed kind of desperate, yeah, but it was also pretty funny watching how flustered Spencer gets under her attention. He may not want to pursue a relationship with her, but that doesn't mean the poor boy doesn't have eyes.

It was just a few hours after their little confrontation with Ryan the Executive Producer and after a brief cooling down session, Spencer called Lila to meet the team back in the rehearsal studio where they had left off. Spencer was clearly devastated, shoulders hunched and eyes sunken in. His coffee bottle stood alone and untouched beside the wall-large mirror. Lila asked Spencer if there was anything wrong and he replied with a blush when she asked if there was anything she could do to make him feel better, running her fingers down his thin chest. Derek cleared his throat loudly and hesitated, almost flinging his arm around Spencer, beat his chest and grunted out, "Mine," but when he noticed the way Spencer leaned away from her a bit, he realized that he didn't have much to worry about. Sure the kid was a big ball of awkward, but he could make his own choices without being helped.

As they worked at the barre, Spencer called out for a plié and Derek rolled his eyes, complying. He glanced over at Lila whose form was beautiful as she executed the perfect move, rose up to full pointe and lifted her leg back in a pristine arabesque. Derek tried not to hate her.

Spencer stared misty-eyed at her as she extended the arabesque down to her ballerina's fingertips and gave Spencer a knowing glance. Dammit. She knows his weakness. Ballet.

"Um… L-Lila. We're not doing that move right now. If you would just…" Spencer spoke up, voice cracking at the end of his sentence and trailing off.

Lila cocked her head to the side, blonde hair cascading beautifully down her back as she asked with large green eyes, "Would I what?"

Spencer quickly grew flustered, "Th-the plié."

Lila paused, lowering her perfectly placed leg, "Oh… how do I do that again?"

_Bullshit, _Derek thought to himself._ Fucking bullshit. Everyone knows how to plié. Three-year-olds can do it. She just wants Spencer to buy into her crap. Oh, my God, is she serious? How could she even ask that? She just fucking did one-_

Spencer explained, "Well, you have to stand parallel to the barre and…"

_He's falling for it? Seriously?!_

Lila batted her eyelashes, "Could you… show me?"

_Oh, come on._

"Well, I guess I could," Spencer walked over to her, fixing his hair as if there was glue in it.

She looked behind her at him, giving him one of those long look downs, "How's my posture?"

Derek's fist clenched around the barre as Spencer awkwardly placed his hands at her waist and fixed her simple, deliberate mistake. He narrowed his eyes as he walked her through the plié and his inner dialogue flung swears and curses at the speed of light. Lila leaned against Spencer's hands, pretending to slip so that she could rest her back against his chest for a moment. Spencer was really blushing now, face red and words all choppy. She ran her soft hand against his cheek and laughed gently in a way that only a woman could. Derek's hands squeezed harder and harder into the barre.

Sighing, he stared out of the window at the traffic. Watching the cars whiz by was a lot more fun than watching the man he loves get all hot and bothered as a woman throws herself at him. Watching the clouds and the sky was a lot more calming that watching how clearly Spencer wasn't pushing her off of him. He heard a soft giggle and Spencer's cleared throat and under his hands the wood cracked a bit, making a sharp crunching sound.

Lila and Spencer turned to look at him in shock.

Derek clenched his jaw, shaking his head as he announced, "Shit."

Spencer worried aloud, "Did you just crack the barre?"

Derek peeled his hands away from the barre, noticing a trickle of warm, red blood running down his hand. He had a splinter digging into the fleshy part of his palm. Great. Derek sucked his teeth angrily, trying to pull it out to no avail, only seeming to push the wood deeper into his hand. He felt their eyes on him worrying, wondering if he was okay. Fuck them. He's fine. He doesn't need their pity right now. Especially Lila. Forget her friendship. Bitch was trying to steal his man.

He finally pulled the wood out of his palm and made his way across the hardwood floor, "I'm going to the bathroom."

Spencer called out, "Derek are you oka—"

Derek didn't hear the rest. By that time, he was already on the other side of the door. He leaned against the wall beside it, sliding down it as he stared at his bleeding palm. Fuck. He didn't mean for them to see him sweat. They didn't need to know how jealous he was of her. Lila. She was perfect. Young, sexy, confident, quick-witted. Derek didn't stand a chance. He saw the way Spencer acted around her. The kid was a damned blushing, stuttering mess. Spencer doesn't get flustered like that around Derek. Never. What does she have that he doesn't have?

Who's he kidding? She had everything, including history with Spencer. Derek pulled himself up off of the wall and walked to the bathroom down the hall. Spencer had said it himself a few weeks ago, Derek and he are practically strangers. They were anyway. Now, they're a mess—both wanting a relationship, but neither willing to make the first move. Derek spends his time longing to be with Spencer, hold hands with him while walking down the street, treat him to dates, take him to his sister's wedding. Spencer on the other hand wants something completely different. He wants sex, but he doesn't want the title. He won't acknowledge their love, he won't talk about his feelings, he's terrified of Derek leaving him... I mean, whoa. Derek just can't indulge that. No matter how much he wants to give Spencer whatever he desires until the end of time… what Spencer wants from him is obscenely unhealthy.

The guy has issues that need to be worked out, and Derek knows that it won't all change in one day. Spencer needs time, love, and a truckload of self-confidence. He needs to know that Derek is willing to wait for him. By God, he's willing to wait forever if he has to.

And then, along came Lila the Seductress.

Lord knows if Derek can stand by and watch that unfold without cracking another barre.

They have this chemistry that Derek couldn't even dare to share with Spencer. It's this never ending game of cat and mouse, Lila being the kitty of course. She'll bat the poor boy around as long as she wants, and Spencer will let her, a dreamy smile on his face as she pirouettes in circles around him. He'd follow that damn girl to the ends of the world, do whatever she asked. He's already under her spell.

As Derek reached the bathroom and ran cold water under his hand, he gripped at the edge of the sink. Derek glanced into the mirror and stared into his own hard brown eyes. Maybe it would be for the best if he let Spencer go. He was clearly happy getting on whatever crazy train Lila was getting him to board, and dragged his feet when Derek promised him the world. Maybe Derek was out of his depth here. Maybe Spencer will never love him—not the way he wants him to.

Derek reached up and wiped off his hands with a paper towel, balling it up, lifting it above his head and tossing it at the trashcan across the room. It sunk into the can, giving Derek a brief lift in spirits. At least he can still do that. He doesn't care what anyone says, landing something in the trashcan always feels awesome. Not as awesome as a loving, healthy relationship with the man you love, but, you know, it's up there.

He sighed and headed out of the bathroom, making his way down the empty hallway and nearing the door. When he opened it, he heard Lila's soft giggles and another familiar sound. A sound Derek wished he didn't hear.

He glanced up from where he stood sandwiched between the door and the hallway and watched Lila place soft kisses on Spencer's lips.

Derek clenched his fists at his side. His heart sunk to the floor, his eyes started to sting, and his chest grew heavy.

Spencer pulled away after every kiss, "Lila… Lila, we shouldn't… this isn't appropriate…"

Lila answered easily, "So?"

Spencer sighed breathlessly and grabbed the sides of her face, pulling her close and kissed her back. Shit. He actually fucking kissed her back. Derek doesn't know if he should be angry or sad, because he was kind of both right now. His jaw tightened as he watched her arms wind around Spencer's neck. Derek bit back his growls of malcontent and before he could storm into the room and pry them apart, Spencer pushed her away one more time. He stepped a few feet back, standing his ground, "L-Lila. I can't. I can't do this with you."

Wait, huh?

Lila folded her arms, "Why?"

"I'm in love with someone else, Lila…" Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose before exploding out, "God, I'm so fucking in love with someone else, you don't even know. And I can't do this with you. I-I can't. I won't. Please cease your ministrations."

Derek slowly started to smile. Son of a bitch, the kid did have a spine. And he actually said that he loved Derek out loud. Wow.

Lila sighed, "It's _him_ isn't it?"

Spencer asked, "Who?"

Lila rolled her eyes, "That football player. Dean, Don, I don't remember. Starts with a D..."

Spencer blushed, scratching behind his neck, "Do you mean Derek?"

Lila nodded, "Yeah, him."

Spencer paused, "Yeah. I, uh… yes. I was talking about him."

Derek held in his haughty chuckle as he burst his way through the door into the room, clearing his throat loudly, "Got the splinter out!"

Spencer jumped, hand on his heart, "Fuck, Derek! Don't do that. You can't just burst into rooms like a freaking Neanderthal. Have some decorum."

Derek strode his way over to the barre and leaned his back against it, glancing over at Lila as he replied, "My bad."

* * *

**A/N: And, yet, there's even more drama. How? I have literally no idea. All I know is that I have an 8:00 class in the morning and I've got a nice, long siesta planned para mi.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

**P.S. For those who don't get the Ray J joke... what (pretty much) made Kim Kardashian famous was the sex tape she made with jerkhole rapper Ray J. Prior to this tape, she was kind of a nobody, but was still considered current news due to her O.J. Simpson lawyer daddy. But, the sex tape blasted her into Super Stardom. I was going to name the chapter "I Hit it First", which is the revenge song rapper Ray J wrote about her when she started dating Kanye West. Girl gets around, but hey. Say what you want about her; she's pretty damn fly.**


	5. The Quarterback and The Stage Queer

**A/N: This is a pretty emotional chapter. Not as emotional as "The Story of Us" in Raising the Barre pt 1, but it's still kinda heavy in the fact that it's pretty content rich. A lot of shit happens in a short amount of time, basically, and both boys come out of it very different.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER FIVE: The Quarterback and The Stage Queer

Even after rehearsals for the day ended, Derek had a surly grin on his face. Spencer turned Lila down. Although Derek and he had their struggles, he chose Derek over what was probably the hottest woman on the face of the Earth, which could fuel his smile for days on end. Yet, as rehearsal ended, he watched as Spencer's face grew more and more grim. It was five o'clock and Spencer called for early release. The professionals were doing a special dance for the opening in the next episode and he had rehearsals for it in a half hour or so.

He shut off the speakers and slid down the edge of the wall, tucking himself in close to his satchel and nursing his bottle of cold coffee like a baby would a pacifier.

Lila gestured to Spencer, panting out tiredly, "What's with him? He's been fading like five dollar lipstick since you two came back from your little field trip."

"Yeah, I know. He's just..." Derek leaned against the barre and shrugged easily, confessing, "This is going to be our last week in the competition and he's not really taking it well."

Lila stepped back for a moment and folded her arms over her spaghetti strapped red camisole, "What are you talking about, this is your last week? You guys are great together. I mean, you two could _win_."

Derek smiled weakly, "Yeah, that's what I thought too. But when it comes down to it, we're just a wild card. The competition wasn't built for us to star in the finals. Heck, the world isn't built for it either. Not yet, anyway."

"How'd you figure that?" she asked, leaning against the barre beside Derek.

Derek glanced over at her, watching her worried green eyes stare back at him, "…ask our fearless leader over there. I can't say. He'd probably kick my ass if I were the one to tell you."

"Oh, please," Lila laughed, "He couldn't beat you up even if he wanted to. Not with those tiny fists."

Derek chuckled and spared a look over at his sulking instructor, "Probably not. But, I know I wouldn't be able to bring myself to hit him back, so I'd end up on the ground at some point in the year."

Lila placed her hand on his arm with a smile, "He wouldn't hit you either."

Derek sighed, watching Spencer inhale the old coffee like it was energy liquidized, "Yeah, I know. He doesn't have the balls."

"I'm not sure if that's it," Lila leaned in closer and whispered quietly, "Can you keep a secret?"

Derek nodded, "Yeah."

Lila grinned, whispering with an excited spring in her voice, "Don't tell him I told you, but… he likes you. And I mean _really_, really likes you. I tried all my tricks on him and all he could do was bring you up. I don't know what spell you cast on him, but he's now impervious to my tits, and let me tell you… not many people are."

Derek let out a small smile, "You think that's news? Please. I know he likes me. _Everyone_ knows he likes me. He's kind of obvious with it."

"Well, do _you_ like _him_?" she asked slyly.

Derek turned to her with a flat look, "Girl, we're not in a Junior High ladies' room, curling each other's hair. I don't have to tell you shit."

Lila gave back an answering grin, "So, you do?"

Derek smirked, "Maybe..."

"Aww! That's so cute! Oh my God!" Lila squealed as she grabbed onto his arm and started jumping animatedly.

Spencer glared up and snapped at her from across the room, "Quiet, or I'm making you do 50 crunches!"

Lila rolled her eyes and yelled back, "Oh, yeah?! I'd like to see you try!"

Spencer shrunk back, lifting his coffee cup, "Whatever..."

She turned back to Derek with a knowing smile, "You should totally ask him out. You guys would be_ so cute_ together."

"You say that like I haven't tried already. I've asked him out like eight different times and each time he said 'no' more forcefully," Derek replied, "Once, he told me that he'd much rather have his head shoved inside of a hippopotamus's anus than suffer through a date with me."

Lila gasped, "Damn."

Derek nodded, "Yeah."

Lila sighed, answering easily, "Well, if he's being such an ass about it, you should just come up with something so awesome that he can't possibly refuse you."

Derek furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "Something he can't refuse?"

"Yeah. And you'd better hurry up," she replied, twisting the cap off of her refillable water bottle and sparing a glance at him, "If this is your last week, you should probably make it count."

Derek stared over at Spencer as he sat slouched against the wall, picking at his coffee label, "Lila Archer, you're a fucking genius."

"Duh," Lila took a sip of water, "What's your Instagram name? I want to follow you so that I can see all the sexy pictures you're going to post after my advice works its magic."

Derek made a face, "Sexy pictures?"

Lila giggled, glancing to Derek, "Yeah! Two sexy guys making out? Yes please."

Derek glared heatlessly, "Don't objectify us."

Lila returned it, "Oh, so you didn't peek at my rack at all today."

"Point made," Derek added.

Lila took another sip of water, chuckling out after nudging Derek's shoulder, "Yeah, I know. King me, bitch."

* * *

Derek sat in his hotel room a half hour later with his laptop open and the Google homepage staring back at him. He has no idea what Spencer would enjoy date-wise. The guy's kind of obscure and a little bit elitist when it comes to his tastes. Spencer's quite refined, but he's known to stray from it at times. He likes Russian stuff. He's always slipping it into conversations and stuff. Derek shook his head, there's no way he's sitting through some long-ass Russian play. Spencer's hot, but he's not _that_ hot.

He typed in: _RUSSIAN PLAYS LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA_

Damn it. Spencer _is_ that hot.

Several plays came up. One of them was called Uncle Vanya**—**which was about God knows what**—**by a guy who's name was Anton Chekhov. According to Wikipedia, it was written in the 1800's. Perfect. Spencer loves ancient shit like that. He'll probably cream himself when he hears about it. He'll be in love with Derek in no time!

Derek pulled out his phone and texted Spencer. [**wats ur stance on uncle vanya?**]

He waited for a response, checking out ticket availabilities. It was fairly cheap. A local college was doing it, so he wasn't expecting the best quality, but it was going to be quirky and cute. Just like Spencer. Maybe he should get him flowers. Or would that be weird. Derek shook his head. Yeah, that would be totally weird. Spencer's not a chick. He'd probably give Derek that annoyed little grimace-pout hybrid upon receiving them. Derek grinned, opening up another tab and Googling: _FLOWER SHOPS LOS ANGELES CALIFORNIA_.

His phone vibrated at his side and he unlocked it, reading the text from Spencer. [**It's depressing and stupid and has so little plot that it's laughable. Why? -Doc**]

Derek sucked his teeth angrily. Fuck. No dice on Uncle Vanya apparently. [**no reason. my lil cousin is reading it in school and asked me what i thought of it.**] Yeah, awesome. He'll blame it on his mother's brother's kid. She's still in high school, he thinks.

Spencer sent back quickly. [**Stop texting me. I'm supposed to be paying attention to choreo and my phone's on vibrate. Kym's giving me the stink-eye. -Doc**]

Derek chuckled and pressed the "CALL" button. Nothing interrupts a class like a phone that won't stop buzzing. He laughed to himself when the call was quickly terminated. He got a quick text back. [**Fuck you. -Doc**]

Well, that was fun. Derek scrolled through his phone and opened a text message to Penelope. [**hey baby girl i need ur help.**]

Derek waited, scrolling through the Russian plays on Google until he got a response. She took a bit longer to reply than Spencer did, but when she did, he wasn't disappointed. [**He who seeks the Goddess of Knowledge, speak and be recognized. - The Black Queen**]

He let out a laugh and replied. [**im gonna ask spencer out (again) and i have no idea where we should go. he really likes turning me down so this date has to be perfect to the point where its undeniable. u up for the challenge baby?**]

The reply was almost instantaneous. [**Peaches, I am the ruler of Unfettered Omniscience. I'm always ready for a challenge. It's so good that you finally nutted up and decided to ask him out though. That is Step One, my duckling. - The Black Queen**]

[**wats step two?**]

Penelope answered. [**Step Two? First, you have to forget the idea of figuring out what he likes. That's a rookie move. Seek his OBSESSION. There, you'll discover his weakness and his weakness is where the magic happens. Find it, attack it, exploit it, open the question boxes, defeat Bowser, save the princess. - The Black Queen**]

[**what?**]

[**You're in way over your head, Caramel Thor.** **Are you near a computer? - The Black Queen**]

[**yh.**]

[**What's your IP address? - The Black Queen**]

[**…why.**]

[**Just give it to me. - The Black Queen**]

[**i dont know it**.]

[**Mortals. So useless sometimes. Where are you? I'm assuming you're on the internet. - The Black Queen**]

[**i am.** **im in hugo springs hotel.**]

Penelope stalled in her reply, leaving Derek guessing. What did she need his IP address? What even is an IP address. [**Room number?**]

Derek replied. [**third floor 308**]

Within a moment, Derek heard his computer mouse make a clicking noise and start moving on its own. Derek paused, moving back a little bit and staring at his screen with wide eyes. What the shit? How is that happening. Oh, no. Hell no. He's calling her. Derek put the phone to his ear and waited for her to respond. Penelope answered with a text. [**I can't call you right now. I'm hacking into your computer with my phone and I don't have that much RAM on this thing. - The Black Queen**]

Hacking into his computer with her phone?! That's a thing?! She can actually do that?! His screen went split and on one side, it was all black with green coding on one side. On the other, there was the old Google screen he had set up. The coding started moving pretty quickly and he caught snatches of familiar things, words, names, the like. Penelope pulled up a page that had a really bad driver's silence picture of Spencer on it. She texted back. [**I have Doc's address, but it looks like he doesn't have a registered computer or wi-fi note. - The Black Queen**]

[**how illegal is this?**]

[**Honey, nothing's illegal if you don't get caught. Now, do you know if he has a home computer off the books, because he doesn't pay for internet in his phone-cable bill. - The Black Queen**]

Derek added. [**yes. he steals his neighbor's wi-fi**.]

Penelope texted back [**Which neighbor? - The Black Queen] **

Derek asked. [**wait. im still stuck on how are youre even seeing his bills.**]

[**You're so funny, handsome. A little bippity-boppity-boo and I can see anyone's life history in the palm of my dainty hand. Nice football field smooch with your team mate Marcus, by the way. You two were really good at hiding that affair. - The Black** **Queen**]

[**HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT!?1!**]

[**It's all in the credit card listings. You started buying KY for men online for a few months after that kiss went viral, but you didn't buy any for a female partner. If you're gonna creep, don't keep a receipt. - The Black Queen**]

[**please dont dig into my past.**]

[**Sorry. I was bored a couple of weeks ago. Don't feel bad. I do it to everyone. - The Black Queen**]

[**its invasive girl come on**]

[**Sorry sorry a million times sorry... wait! Oh, my God. Little Doc was a Boy Scout in 1988! Look at this picture I found holy cow. It's so cute. - The Black Queen**]

A picture popped up onto the screen of a troop of about fifteen mousy looking boys who couldn't be any older than eight. They all seemed proud and confident with cheeky smiles and then there was one boy all the way to the left in the well-staged format. His brown hair was combed back, his cheeks were a little flushed, and his glasses were way too big for his face. He wasn't smiling. Instead, his hand was raised to his ear as if he had recently pushed a loose curl shyly out of his face. Yeah, that was definitely Spencer. He looked down at the name key and followed it right to him. Spencer K. Reid (6). Aww, he was six years old. Even then, he was a geek. It was actually super endearing for some reason. Derek kind of wants to hug the kid and tell him that it would all be okay. He'd tell him that one day, he'd be more famous than the lot of those grinning boys. More handsome, more talented, more accomplished. He'd grow up great. But, as of then, he was the quiet, bashful, nerdy boy who hid behind his glasses and mother's skirt.

Derek's phone vibrated against his leg. [**Okay, so I found a Netflix account paid under his name that consistently uses the wi-fi code of a woman named Greta Gorsky. - The Black Queen**]

[**she lives above him. she made him muffins when he was sick and i had to hide in the coat closet when she came to drop them off b/c we were in the middle of something really naughty on the couch and we couldnt find my pants.**]

[**TMI, dude. - The Black Queen**]

[**They were under the couch w/ his sweater vest. i wont even tell u what we did with his tie. that damn kid is a freak and it is sooooo hot.**]

[**CHANGING THE SUBJECT… if I weed through his debit card history, I see a shit ton of books ordered online in the past six months. Tuition for a night class at UCLA. A couple of Doctor Who marathons, which is beyond awesome. Switching to internet history and bingo! Google searches. - The Black Queen**]

[**what'd u find**]

[**Look for yourself, handsome. The most searched are at the top. - The Black Queen**]

The left side of his screen filled up with a long list of google searches, the most frequent one is **MARIINSKY TOUR 2011, MARIINSKY TOUR 2012, MARIINSKY TOUR 2013…** and so on. Wow, this is it. Derek has no clue what the hell Mariinsky is, but Spencer wants it bad. Real bad. Strangely it seems as though it's not what he's getting. He keeps searching the tour dates over and over again. Like once a month, he'll check them and double check them and triple check them. Each year, he moves on to the next tour. Derek clicked through to the website. They were a Russian ballet troupe. Oh, _of course_. Derek remembered Spencer saying himself that he felt as if his spirit dance was Russian ballet the night they hooked up. He adores ballet. It's the first thing he does when he wakes up in the morning. Even when he's bored, or upset, he can be seen shifting around on his toes, fingers making delicate motions as they sail through the air. Spencer must want to see this show more than anything.

Derek sifted through until he found their current calendar. He scrolled down. They were based in St. Petersburg, but they did world tours. They started in Russia, moved to Beijing a few weeks later. Scroll, scroll, scroll. Napoli, Italy. Mexico City, Mexico. Muscat, Oman. The Huage, Netherlands. Baden Baden, Germany. Copenhagen, Denmark. Whoa! Yes! United States! When was it… holy shitballs. Shut up. There must be a God. They were going to be here for the rest of this week up until Saturday.

He sent a text back to Penelope. [**are u seeing what im seeing?! theyre gonna be in america this week!**]

Penelope texted back. [**Where in America? - The Black Queen**]

Derek clicked through to the link and his shoulders fell. He picked up his phone and texted back sluggishly. [**washington dc. shit. thats across the country.**]

[**You guys have rehearsal, you can't fly all the way over to Virginia. There's no time. - The Black Queen**]

Derek texted back. [**…what if we make time?**]

[**Intrigued. I'm listening… - The Black Queen**]

* * *

It was around 10:30 at night, just after Spencer's night class, when Derek pulled into the parking lot of Spencer's apartment complex. He fixed his collar, straightening it in the rearview mirror. Derek checked his teeth and winked at his reflection. It was "go" time.

He unfastened his seatbelt and turned the car off, hopping out and locking it. A manila folder and a single red rose in his hand, Derek strode up to the door and headed for the stairs. He'd had a busy last few hours. He was on the phone with an uncanny amount of people prior to his little drive. The ballet was sold out for the entire tour, proving that not everything went his way this week; but after calling the ticket booth, Derek managed to talk his way into obtaining two of the five tickets returned by French ambassadors who couldn't make it last minute in DC. They were planning to attend on Saturday, which is the final day for Spencer, Lila, and his rehearsal, but… Derek's got a plan. It's not the best, but it's a plan. All Spencer has to say was "yes".

Making his way up the steps, Derek hid the folder behind his back. He walked along the fourth floor hallway until he found Spencer's door and knocked. Derek's heart was already beating hard in his chest, but now, it was practically pounding against his ribcage. His palms were sweaty around the trimmed rose and his foot was tapping nervously against the floor in his vintage Nike's.

On the other side of the door, he heard a Spencer shuffling across his living room and his voice calling out, "One second! I'll be right there, I'm**—**shit—I'll be right there. Just give me a sec."

Derek's heart began to race even faster. God, what if Spencer says 'no'. What if he laughs in his face? Oh, fuck. What if he asks how Derek knew about Mariinsky? He'd be fucked. No, no. No. He won't be. He'll come up with something so that he doesn't sound stalker-y. Because breaking into his computer and reading his internet history is pretty stalker-y. Derek held his breath and felt more than saw when the door was pushed open to reveal a very ruffled looking Spencer, drowned in a beige cable knit sweater and holding several papers. His hair was pulled up into a lazy, off center bun on top of his head and there was a pen stuck into it. A pair of glasses was hanging off of his nose and they were slightly different from the ones he's used to seeing on Spencer. They were rimmed in silver and more square shaped. They suited him, like many things do.

"Derek." Spencer moved awkwardly with the papers in his hands and he pushed at the door with his shoulder, asking with a huff of distracted breath, "What do you want? I'm kind of busy here."

Derek leaned against the doorframe and gave off his most charming smile, "I wanted to ask you something. Mind if I come inside?"

"Kind of. I've got papers everywhere and I don't need you stepping on them." Spencer replied flatly.

Derek glanced into the room around Spencer's fuzzy haired head, "Uh… why do you have papers everywhere in the first place?"

Spencer flushed, letting his head rest tiredly against the door, "My printer went insane and started spitting stuff everywhere. Now, my midterm is kind of… spread across the living room. I couldn't get it to stop, so now I've got forty-six papers strewn about the floor all out of order and, I—"

Derek began to laugh, "Need help?"

Spencer shook his head and murmured under his breath, "…yeah. I kind of do."

Derek shrugged, "Then, step aside, Pretty Boy. I'll fix your printer while I'm at it. Might as well."

Spencer looked up at Derek with wide eyes and breathed out, "You know how to fix printers?"

Derek nodded, "Yep."

Spencer sighed, biting his lip, "I adore you."

"Damn right, you do," Derek leaned forward and kissed his forehead, stepping into the room with his back away from Spencer as he backed into the kitchen. As Spencer struggled with the door, Derek panicked for a moment. What's he going to do with the folders and flowers? Shit, shit, he's coming back. Derek opened a drawer beside the sink and found a bunch of silverware in them. He shoved the folder in, but the flower didn't fit. Crap! Spencer's footsteps were making their way into the kitchen and Derek opened the dishwasher and tossed it in, slamming it shut and leaning on it casually as Spencer stepped into the doorway. He blinked, "…what were you doing with my dishwasher?"

Derek fibbed easily, "Nothing. It just wasn't closed. I closed it."

"Oh, yeah?" Spencer replied just as easily, knowing eyes boring into his.

Derek gulped, "Yeah." _Please don't check, please don't check..._

Spencer stared into his eyes unmovingly, "Then, turn it on 'rinse'. I've got a couple of plates in there."

Derek's shoulders fell and he sighed, reaching forward and pressing the right button. His heart fell as he heard the water rush in. Damnit. His flower… its dying. Spencer eyed him over and after a moment, he rolled his eyes, "You know what? I don't even care anymore. Just help me sort these papers."

"Be right there!" Derek called as Spencer walked past him and into the living room. He swore under his breath and opened the dishwasher, retrieving his sodden, waterlogged flower that was already wilting due to the sudden onslaught provided by the jets. The thing was ruined. He opened a cabinet above the stove and stashed the sad looking flower in there.

Walking cooly into the living room, Derek looked over the floor. Yeah, this was one intense clusterfuck Spencer's gotten himself into. There was a printer and a laptop on the coffee table in front of the couch and the entire floor was covered in black inked paper. He asked, "Did you at least put customized page numbers on them?"

Spencer sat on the floor, surrounded by papers as he looked up and glared at Derek, "What do you think?"

Derek chuckled, "You really fucked this up good."

Spencer growled, "As if I didn't already know that," he held up a paper and asked, "Do you see a page over there that starts with the word 'ageism'?"

Derek sat on the edge of the floor, picking up page after page of typed wording. He's so glad he's not in college any more. How does Spencer actually enjoy doing obscene amounts of busywork? It makes no viable sense. Even valedictorians shudder at the thought of staying in school forever. As Derek lifted a page, he scanned it, holding it out a small distance. The page was still pretty blurry. Shit. He held it back further and tipped his head back. Ah, there we go. It started with "ageism when compared to the detrimental…" Derek lifted the paper, "Got it!"

As he glanced over at Spencer, the man sat looking at him with an entertained look on his face, "You're farsighted?"

Derek shrugged, "Just a little. It's no big."

"Your arm was like a foot away from your face," Spencer chuckled, leaning back into the back of the couch, "A little farsighted, my ass."

Derek folded his arms, "Oh, please. It wasn't a foot!"

Spencer laughed, "Yeah, okay."

Derek grimaced at him, "What? You want to cackle about it now? Ha ha, look at the vision impaired guy. It's a real hoot."

"You gotta admit, it looks really funny when a farsighted person is trying to act like they're perfectly fine without an aid. Here." Spencer pulled the glasses off of his nose, tossing them over to Derek. Derek raised his hand and caught them easily. Spencer replied, "I wear them to focus sometimes. When it's late, I start to drift a little while reading. It may not be your prescription, but they might help."

Derek sighed and put the glasses on, staring down at the page which was a little bit clearer than before. It was still fuzzy, but Derek could at least make out the words on it. He looked up at Spencer, "Thanks."

Spencer asked, "When did it happen?"

Derek inquired, "You mean when did my eyes start to go?"

Spencer nodded.

Derek replied dismally, "Three years ago. I didn't even realize it was happening because of how gradual it was, and then when I came down to sign a contract, I couldn't even read it. Damn thing looked like strips of black fuzzies. I never felt more stupid in my life than I did right then."

Spencer smiled understandingly over to him, "You're not stupid. You're just… getting older."

Derek answered, "I wish I wasn't."

"We all do," Spencer's head fell in shame a little bit when he replied, "I uh… I found a grey hair last week. Ripped the damned thing out and almost had a panic attack. Trust me, you're not alone."

Derek gasped, "Seriously? But, you're so young."

"Runs on my father's side. He started dying his hair at thirty-three when it got to be too much. At least that's what my mom told me," Spencer sighed, "I don't want to go grey. Not yet. I feel like I have so much of my youth left, and then I remember… I really don't."

Derek started to laugh, balling up the paper and tossing it at Spencer, "Look at us, all ancient and shit."

The paper landed on Spencer's head and he shrieked, "My midterm! What are you doing?!"

Derek replied, pulling off the glasses, "You know, I could just fix your printer now and you can print out an all new copy instead of going crazy trying to mix and match, right?"

Spencer paused, "…you make a solid point."

"I've been known to do that," Derek balled up another piece of paper and tossed it at Spencer's nose. It bounced off of his face, "Oh! Bullseye!"

Spencer gave him a flat look, "I worked really hard on this paper. I put three weeks into the research. I wrote over fifty pages and had to edit and rewrite and restructure and—" another balled up piece of paper bopped him on the forehead. Spencer rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan, "You know what? You want trouble? Fine. Just know you started it."

Derek grinned, "Don't worry, kiddo. I know it. And I'll remind you after I kick your ass."

Spencer reached over and grabbed an armful of papers, running around the coffee table and hiding behind his printer, "Never wage a war against an MIT graduate, Derek. We have a history of going nuclear."

"Yeah, okay." Derek shuffled the remaining papers into his hands and took purchase behind the couch, balling up paper after paper into little snowballs. He was building up an arsenal. By the time he was finished, he had seventeen pieces of ammunition. Derek peeked over the edge of the couch and ducked quickly as a paper ball sailed over his head, "Damn, boy! Calm down! We didn't even call it yet!"

Spencer tossed two more balls over the couch, "Boo hoo! You want to cry it out?"

Derek grabbed a ball in his hand and waited until he saw Spencer's head pop up to nail one across the room and hit him square on the forehead, "Ooh, yes! Ten points!"

Spencer hissed, ducking back down under the printer, "I will crush you…"

Derek chuckled, "Hmm?"

Spencer replied innocently, "What?"

Before long, Derek's received five paper balls to the face, two to the neck, and one to the shoulder. Spencer, on the other hand, was getting fucking _ass_ _reamed _out there. The kid was all bark and no bite… alright, he was a little bite. But, it wasn't nothing Derek couldn't handle. I mean, Derek was an NFL player—a quarterback. His aim was pristine. Even saying all that, Spencer still didn't lose not one ounce of scrap. Even as he was getting pelted with paper balls. At one point, Spencer actually got the gall to cross over into Derek's fort with an arm full of balls and just started letting them fly. Derek, unprepared for the sudden takeover, got assaulted with a handful of rolled up papers. He raised his hands above his head and laughed out, "That's cheating! You're fucking cheating! Are you serious right now?!"

Spencer ignored him with his goofy smile, picking up more papers, straddling Derek's waist, and throwing paper after paper at his chest, "I will be the Paper Ball King! I will not back down until each ball has been thrown!"

Derek pushed up on his own hips and rolled them over, taking the ammo out of Spencer's hands and tossing them at Spencer, laughing as they bounced off of Spencer's face, "Say uncle, say uncle, say uncle, say uncle!"

Spencer yelped from under Derek, holding his hands up to shield his face as he cackled out, "Never!"

Paper after paper was thrown and yet from there, Spencer held his ground, picking up the occasional ball and tossing it in Derek's direction. Derek ducked out of the way and continued to pelt Spencer with paper, repeating his current phrase. Yet, Spencer refused to renounce. His hands shot up and he grabbed Derek's wrists from where he lay, bringing them down onto the floor on each side of Spencer's head. Spencer used as much strength as he could to keep Derek there, their faces growing close and their breaths mixing as Derek struggled to break his hold.

He glanced down into Spencer's warm brown eyes, tinged with his goofy smile, some of his hair fallen loose of his bun and framing his face with soft curls. Derek didn't really know why he did it and at the moment, he didn't care. He leaned down and took Spencer's lips for his own in a sweet kiss. Spencer's mouth were so soft and warm, pressing into his. All of these emotions raced to the surface in a huge bubble lodged in his throat as he kissed him gently. Holy shit. Derek felt Spencer's eyelashes flutter and hands loosen up on Derek's, releasing him from the grip. Their arms wrapped around their bodies, Spencer's winding around Derek's shoulder and waist, Derek's hands pressed to his back to bring him closer. Holy shit. Spencer's head turned gently to the side as Derek deepened the kiss, bringing a hand up to cradle Spencer's jaw and run his finger along his cheek, roughened with the day's stubble. Spencer arched into his touch, letting out a soft moan against his lips. _Oh_… oh, God.

He wasn't supposed to be doing this. He _really_ wasn't supposed to be doing this. They're broken up. They'd sworn off of physicality. He can't kiss Spencer. Especially not like this. Derek sighed into Spencer's soft lips. But, how could he not? How could Derek stay away from Spencer when everything feels so perfect, so right pressed against his skin? Spencer's kisses were like passion personified. Derek can feel every emotion, every longing, every word Spencer never spoke. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Spencer pressed closer to him, fingernails running down Derek's back and catching on his tee shirt. Fuck, he's getting hard. Derek can feel it throbbing against the inseam of his jeans. Derek licked into Spencer's mouth and reached down to hitch Spencer's leg around his waist to find Spencer in the same predicament, rutting one stiffness against the other, humping them together hard and fast. Friction, closer, harder, _yes_. Yes! Spencer tossed his head back and cried out in exaltation under the onslaught of the thrusts, ending the kiss with a stuttering sharpness as he whimpered a soft plea.

Spencer's breath caught as Derek suddenly pulled away from him, hands raised in submission. It got very quiet between the two. Awkward quiet. Spencer cleared his throat and blushed, releasing Derek from his hold, "Does this mean I won the paper ball war, or…"

Derek sighed, "Dammit, Spence, I'm sorry. I—"

Spencer replied quickly, "No! Derek, don't worry about it. It's fine."

Derek sat back, answering, "It's really not. We're not supposed to… shit. I just made things super weird, didn't I?"

Spencer shook his head and pushed a lock of hair out of his face, "No! No, you didn't. I… this isn't weird. It's not like I… hated it."

"Oh, thank God," Derek replied with a rush of breath.

Spencer's neck flushed as he continued, "Hell, if anything it's my fault. I shouldn't have kissed you back like that. It was… uncouth—and it crossed our physical barrier by bounds that are just _unacceptable_ by any stretch of the imagination—"

Now, it was Derek's time to be embarrassed, "No. Kid, don't take the blame for it. That was all me. I kissed you."

Spencer sighed and let his head fall back onto the floor, "Yeah, but I made things weirder by letting you!"

Derek shook his head, "No, man, you didn't make things weird. You're just…"

Spencer finished, "Not allowed to grope you?"

Derek sighed, "Yes… no… I don't know. Damn it, I want you to. I really, really do. But, I don't want what you want and you don't want what I want and it's all really awkward, because I want to give you… _everything_ and you don't even want to be with me."

Spencer stared back into Derek's eyes, "I do want to be with you, Derek. It would be so easy to just ride off into the sunset with you and call you mine. God, how I want that. But there's always that worry, screaming in the back of my head that…"

"That I'll break your heart?" Derek finished.

Spencer worried aloud, "I know that your intentions are good, I do. But… I've been hurt. A lot. I don't know if I can trust you with my heart."

Derek's face fell, "You can. Hurting you is the last thing I'd do. You just—you mean so much to me, kid… I don't even know if I could tell you how much. I don't think I could put it into words."

Spencer took Derek's face in his hands and asked, "_Try_ to tell me, Derek. How much do I mean?"

Derek smiled worriedly down at Spencer, "The world. I fell in love with you, man."

Spencer replied, "You say that like it's some sort of cure-all. Like it fixes everything. What does it even mean?"

Derek let out a grin, "It means that you make me happy. I adore you—everything about you. I love the way we fit together, I love the way you look at me, I love the sound of your voice, I even love the way you piss me off, and I can't say that about anybody. I love you. I mean, I don't know how else to put it, man, you give me the warm fuzzies. When you smile at me, I feel like I'm going to throw up because of how crazy the butterflies in my stomach go." Spencer chuckled, blushing as Derek continued, "I'd do anything for you, Spence. Even crazy wack-a-doo stuff. Hell, I've already done crazy wack-a-doo stuff for you. I threw my career away for you. And, you know what? I'd do the whole thing over again. Well… minus waiting a month to make out with you."

Spencer let out a laugh, "Yeah, those were the longest three and a half weeks of my life."

Derek poked Spencer's cheek, "You think you were alone? No, dude. You drove me crazy with those long eyelashes and that sassy mouth. And, _fuck_, man. When you'd bend down in those cute little shorts, I thought I'd have to rub one out in the bathroom. I almost left a rehearsal like twice because of that shit."

Spencer fell into a pool of chuckles, waving his hands around, "You're kidding!"

"I'm not, you fucking seductress!" Derek laughed, "You tortured me every day. And on top of that, you had the nerve to be a great guy, so I couldn't even be mad at you for it."

Spencer blushed as he came down from his laughter, pushing the loose strands of hair from his face and behind his ear in that nervous tell of his. His warm brown eyes flicked back up to Derek's and his lips pursed in a soft smirk he was trying so well to hide. His cheeks were still red and nose wrinkled as he replied, "You're a great guy too."

Derek felt his own heart grow in his chest as he stared back into Spencer's eyes with an easy smile, "…God, I love you."

Spencer reached up and rubbed his palms along Derek's shoulders, sighing, "I know. But… you also loved Jordan and you two fell out."

"Yes, I loved her, but it wasn't like _this_. Nothing's ever been like this. I mean, I can't voice it." Derek answered easily, shrugging when he added, "Now, I'm not the most religious guy in the world, but one scripture my mom says to me all the time kind of explains what I feel better than I can. '_While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal._' It's in Corinthians somewhere. I couldn't point it out to you with it in front of me though."

Spencer stared back at him, going quiet for a moment. He opened his mouth as if he were going to speak and closed his mouth suddenly, staring intently back at Derek.

Derek asked, "…what?"

Spencer sat up and pulled Derek close, sealing their lips together in a slow, heady kiss. Derek felt himself slipping away under the press of Spencer's kiss and the feel of his slim arms weaving their way around his neck. Derek placed his hands low on Spencer's back and supported the dancer as he got closer and closer to him. Their lips melded over and over again, pressing and pushing against each other as they grasped onto that feeling that they long missed. Derek reached up and pulled Spencer's hair tie out and buried his fingers in the soft curls, following Spencer to the floor as he tugged Derek down. His hands ran down Spencer's chest and gripped at the cut of his waist, holding them together.

Pulling them out of the kiss, Spencer confessed as he glanced up at him from where he lay on the floor, "I'm not sure if I can keep pushing you away, Derek. You're so good at saying all the right things. You make me want to jump in headfirst, but I'm so scared that I'm going to land on concrete and I just… I don't want to put myself out there just to get hurt again. I don't want to watch you leave me. I don't think I'll be able to do it twice."

Derek promised breathlessly, "I won't leave you, I swear."

Spencer worried aloud, "But you said you were going to move back to Chicago."

Derek sighed, "Well, I can't just pack up my life and move across the country like that, Spencer. Where would I live?"

Spencer pulled Derek's forehead down to press against his, "Somewhere."

"It's a bit sudden," Derek replied, "Don't you think?"

Spencer sighed out, "…yeah."

"I'll travel. I'll visit all the time," Derek said with a smile, kissing Spencer's warm lips, "And I'll take you out on dates, and we'll watch bad movies, and we'll make love like crazy people on every flat surface in this apartment. It'll be great."

Spencer kissed him back, replying with closed eyes, "It sounds wonderful, but…"

Derek finished, "Let me guess… how can you trust me?"

Spencer looked into Derek's eyes hesitantly, "Yeah."

Derek brushed a fly curl out of Spencer's face, "You want to jump, don't you? That's what your gut is pushing you to do. Then, go for it. Jump. I'll catch you. Every time. Just like I do on stage."

"I…" Spencer took a deep breath, "…okay."

"Seriously?" Derek asked disbelievingly. Did Spencer just say "okay"? Did he just agree with him?

Spencer said slowly, "Yeah. Okay... I'll try it. Trusting you. I'm running out of time with you. This is our last week together and you know what, I can't waste it. So... okay. I'll do it. I'll jump with you."

Derek's eyes widened, "Seriously?"

Spencer let a deep breath out from the bellows of his chest and he started to laugh self-consciously, "Yeah. Seriously."

"Yes. Yes!" Derek sat up and pumped his fist in the air. Spencer's going to try trusting him! Yes! He's going to give them a chance. Derek looked back down at Spencer from where he lay, looking up at Derek with a slightly scared look of relief on his face. Spencer laughed as Derek reached down and kissed him hard and long, wrapping his arms around Derek's body.

"You're actually giving me a shot! Holy shit! A pig must have gotten its wings somewhere!" Derek grinned, kissing him once more.

Spencer nodded into the kiss and let out a noncommital, "Hmm..."

Derek pulled away from Spencer suddenly, "Wait. So, if I asked you out right now, you'd say yes?"

Spencer blinked slowly, still dazed from the kiss, "Mmm…"

Derek leaned down and kissed Spencer again, "Spence."

Spencer grinned lazily with a dazed sheen over his eyes, "Yeah?"

Derek asked, "Will you go out with me?"

"Derek..." Spencer pulled him down and pressed his face into Derek's skin, "I'm not a 'date-y' kind of guy. I'm fine with just this. Hanging out, throwing stuff at you, kissing for no reason… We don't need to go on dates. What for? They're kind of stupid."

Derek softly pulled Spencer from him, "That's what you think now, but you've never dated _me_. Just wait here, okay. I've got the best idea. You're going to love it, man, you're gonna freak."

Spencer replied flatly, "I highly doubt it."

"You will," Derek gave him one last kiss and stood, jetting off into the kitchen to find his folder and flower. Crap. He completely forgot where he'd put it. Derek stared around the kitchen. He knew he put it in the cabinet, but which one. Double crap. He opened a cabinet overhead and a soaked flower fell out and landed onto the table in a squishy plop. Derek sighed, picking it up and watching it bend limply in his hands. Well, the flower was pretty much trash at this point. He started opening drawers, starting with the one closest to the refrigerator.

Spencer spoke up from the living room, "Dude, why do you keep messing around in my kitchen?"

Derek called back, "I came over here to ask you out and I kind of had to hide all the date goodies in a drawer so you wouldn't see it when I came in."

"Just won't give up, will you..." Spencer started to grumble under his breath, and Derek let out a chuckle as he opened the right drawer, finding a manila folder in it containing the printed out tickets to the ballet show in Virginia. He took a deep breath and made his way into the living room only to be greeted by a balled up piece of paper to the face. Spencer looked up at him from the floor, "That's for planning to ask me out before we had this talk."

"Fine, whatever. You're going to love me after you see it." Derek picked up the ball and threw it back at Spencer, hitting him right below the collarbone and crouched on the floor beside Spencer, handing him the sodden flower.

Spencer took it in his fingers and watched as a slimy petal slipped off of the bud and onto the floor in a slick splat, "That's disgusting."

Derek replied, "It went through your dishwasher."

Spencer pointed, "I knew you messed with it!"

"Okay, Spencer. You're always right. I understand," Derek rolled his eyes and handed him the folder, "Here look at this. It didn't drown, thank God."

Spencer looked up at Derek, folder in hand, "What is it?"

Derek gestured, "Open it."

Spencer sat up straighter into a cross legged position and flipped open the manila folder. His eyes scanned the page and they suddenly grew large. His jaw locked up and he dropped the folder into his lap, eyes still large and staring into the space where the folder was. Oh, shit. Is he okay? Derek cockled his head to the side and asked, "Spencer… you alright?"

The dancer's mouth opened softly and he let out a puff of air before whimpering something inaudible. Derek waved his hand over Spencer's eyes and asked once more, "Spencer?"

Spencer blinked, "H-how did you… how? It's… how did you…"

Derek replied easily, "I spoke to a couple people in charge and got a few strings pulled. Apparently some French ambassadors pulled their tickets at the last minute, so we've got ourselves priority seating for the show since I nabbed two of their reserved spots."

Spencer breathed, "But… sold out… for a year… how did you even…"

"How did I get them to give me the tickets?" Derek asked.

Spencer nodded with wide eyes.

Derek winked, "I'm smooth as hell, that's how. I also promised the venue director of sales a signed football, but all in all it was no big."

Spencer whispered, "I… I… this is… I… don't know what to say."

Derek glanced up into his eyes, "How about 'yes'?"

Spencer got quiet and opened the folder looking down at the tickets with a look of wonder on his face, bursting into a large grin, eyes filled with excitement as he shouted, "Yes! Yes, of course! A thousand times, yes!" Spencer grabbed Derek close and wrestled him into a tight hug, "This is the best thing ever. Oh, my God, I can't believe we're going to see Mariinsky. And at the _Kennedy_? I think I'm going to cry. I'm totally going to cry. When I cry, don't ever tell anybody, or I'll punch you so hard. Holy shit. Oh, my God. You're the best, Derek. You are the best."

Derek started to laugh and patted Spencer's back, "Duh."

Spencer held him tighter, "I don't even know how we're getting all the way to Virginia. Especially on a Saturday. We have rehearsal that day, and don't you dare think you're getting out of it."

Derek stated, "Well, I thought it would be kind of cool to skip. Me and my teacher going on a date during school hours? God. We're pretty much Aria and Mr. Fitz."

Spencer shook his head against Derek's shoulder, "Please be joking."

Derek sighed, "My plan is to put in extra time tomorrow morning, Friday night, and Sunday night. I've worked it all out. If we add three hours each day, we'll make up lost time. I'm already looking at plane tickets, so you don't even have to worry, alright? I've got it all under control."

"Oh, my gosh, you do," Spencer pulled back and looked Derek in the eyes, "You do. I'm going to trust you with it, because I do trust you. Wholly and completely. Just let me know if you need help making plans, because sometimes in DC the hotel spaces can—"

Derek started, "Spencer."

Spencer replied, "I'm sorry. I'll stop. Just let me at least pay for the plane tickets since you paid for the show."

Derek warned, "Spencer."

Spencer sighed, "Fine, fine, fine. I'll cool my jets… I'm trusting you… and I don't have to micromanage… unless you let me."

Derek nodded, grinning, "You don't need to stress, man. About anything. If you want to pay for the tickets, that's fine. But, trip-wise, I've got it. Just trust me. I won't fuck it up. I travel all the time and I've got some serious miles saved up."

Spencer added with a wide smile, "I trust you."

Derek patted the side of Spencer's face, "You trust me."

"Yes," Spencer's smile fell, "This doesn't make you my boyfriend or anything though, right?"

Derek replied easily, "Only if you want."

Spencer paused, "…I really do, but…"

"Trust," Derek reminded him.

"Trust… I have to remember that," Spencer repeated, placing his hands on Derek's shoulders and nodding, "Okay, look. I'm going to slip sometimes on it. A lot. That's a given. But… I'm going to try to trust you. And, if I'm trusting you completely, that means I'm trusting you with my heart. And that's scary. Very scary. It's been broken so many times, but I have to trust you won't break it."

Derek put his hand over Spencer's and moved their hands to cover his heart, "I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make you the happiest little geek that every walked the Earth." Spencer laughed and Derek continued, "The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I can't promise I never will, but if I do, I'll be there to put you back together."

Spencer breathed, "Promise?"

Derek tapped his foreheads against Spencer's, "Promise."

Spencer started to chuckle softly, nodding, "Okay. Fine, you can be my boyfriend. One condition though."

Derek asked, "Anything."

Spencer replied easily, "No more hiding. We don't have the competition looming over our heads anymore, this whole student/teacher thing will be eliminated soon… there would be nothing to hide from, not anymore. We'll step forward, go public, you know? Because if I'm going to do this with you, I'm going to do it right. Is that okay with you?"

Derek paused with a slow smile, "Is that okay? Spence, it's perfect."

Spencer nodded slowly, sunshine rising in his eyes as he whispered, "Perfect?"

Derek grinned, "Yeah."

"Yeah?" Spencer pressed soft kisses to Derek's lips, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close, "We're going to have stupid articles written about us," he kissed Derek once more, "And intrusive interviews done with the cameras all in our faces and our sex life," Spencer kissed him twice more, "And the gossip. I don't even want to think about the gossip," Spencer pulled away, staring at Derek, "Speaking of all of this turmoil we'd cause simply by existing, you really should call your agent. She's going to probably pass out when she finds out about us."

Derek pulled Spencer into his arms, "Jeez. We've been dating for five seconds, and you're already bossing me around."

Spencer asked worriedly, "Is that bad? Should I stop?"

Derek chuckled, "Are you kidding me? I love it. It's turning me on like you wouldn't believe."

Spencer laughed out, "Good, because you're going to be getting it a lot."

"Can't wait," Derek replied, leaning closer and giving Spencer a sweet kiss, whispering against his lips, "As long as we get to neck like teenagers afterward, I guarantee there's no argument we can't settle."

Spencer shook his head, "I never understood that statement. I got my first kiss at nineteen like three days before my twentieth birthday. It was really awkward and I had no clue what I was doing. Can we neck like thirty-year-olds instead?"

Derek furrowed his eyebrows, "Three days before your twentieth birthday? Damn, that's sad."

Spencer smacked Derek's arm, "Hey! I was a late bloomer, alright? Not all of us were the star quarterback with the sexy grin and big muscles."

Derek chuckled, "Man, you're right. I had it going on in high school."

"'Going on'? What does that even mean?" Spencer sighed sadly.

Derek tugged on Spencer's sweater and kissed his lips, rubbing their noses gently, "It means that the star quarterback with the sexy grin and big muscles had a bunch of ladies at his beck and call for decades, and _then_ he met this shy, geeky stage queer and all of those ladies became invisible to him, because," Derek lifted one of Spencer's hands and kissed his knuckles, "…the shy, geeky stage queer showed him what it felt like to put someone's needs before his own. He taught him how to be patient and sensible and open minded. He taught him that love is something worth fighting for. And the shy, geeky stage queer and the star quarterback lived happily ever after."

Spencer grinned and bumped his forehead up against Derek's.

Derek continued, "Until they tanked their own chances of winning a national competition and prayed that their sex tape wouldn't end up on TMZ."

Spencer started to laugh, "That went south very quickly."

Derek cuffed his chin playfully, "Hey, don't feel bad. At least you still look cute with cum on your face."

Spencer covered his gasp with his hand and started tugging at Derek's tee shirt, "Oh, my God. Why did I have you do that to me? That's so slutty."

Derek scoffed, "No, it wasn't."

Spencer's face went red under his hand, "Don't lie to me."

Derek made a face and nodded, "Okay, it was pretty slutty of you to ask me to do it, but the sexiness outweighed the sluttiness by like a million percent. Even if it gets out, no one's going to judge you, because you're like really hot. I mean, you've got to ask yourself… how many of the people watching this tape wish Spencer Reid let them come on his face."

"Oh, my god, now I _really_ feel like a whore," Spencer hung his head and rested it on Derek's shoulder.

Derek chuckled, "Aww, dude."

Spencer whined, "If that tape gets out, I'm moving to Serengeti and living with the wildebeests after I die from the embarrassment."

Derek prodded him, "Spencer, you are not a whore. You're the furthest thing from it."

Spencer whimpered into his shirt, "I wouldn't be so sure of that. I've had some dark years. I've done stuff I'm not proud of. With people I'm not proud of."

Derek winked in stride, "Hey, at least you haven't slept with Flavor Flav."

Spencer mumbled through his confession, "But, I _did_ fuck the host from Legends of the Hidden Temple."

Derek let out a loud laugh, gasping out, "No! You didn't fuck that guy!"

"I did," Spencer sighed self-deprecatingly, "His name is Kirk. He's really nice. I met him at a record shop down Santa Monica and he bought me a drink."

Derek shook his head, still laughing, "That's crazy."

Spencer added, "It is. It's a strange tale. Thing is, he reminds me of this one bar tender at Club Bey-otch, give or take a decade."

Derek paused, "Wait, is this guy your thinking of named Matt?"

Spencer started to nod slowly against his shoulder, "Yeah, how did you know?"

Derek shrugged, "I almost slept with him."

Spencer's head popped up suddenly and he stared Derek dead in the eyes, "You didn't though, right?"

Derek replied, "No, why?"

"Good," Spencer's shoulders lowered as he let out a relieved breath, "He has herpes."

Derek made a face, "Shit, really?"

Spencer nodded emphatically, "Yeah, it's really bad too. Like he waited too long to treat it or some shit."

Derek paused, "Wait… how do you know about that?"

"How do you think?" Spencer shuddered, "We were both drunk at this luau party and found our way into a supply closet and when I saw it... I ran out of that room so fast, you don't even know. His thing looked like a badly fried churro. I mean, the damned thing was in _braille_—."

Derek gagged, "I'm going to throw up. Please stop talking."

Spencer replied, "Ugh. It's fine. You can say it. I'm a slut."

Derek raised his finger, fanning his face with his hand to get that image out of his head, "You aren't a slut. You just went through a... sexually liberating period. There's a difference. Besides, no one's going to think any less of you for doing questionable things in a sex tape, especially things people wish their significant other would do."

Spencer worried aloud, "Shit."

"Well, on the bright side, it's not getting out because we chose to step down. Hopefully." Derek replied, pulling Spencer close and pressing a kiss to his temple, "And soon we won't have to worry about anybody knowing how good you are in... bed except for me and a few choice people... and the host from the Legends of the Hidden Temple."

Spencer tried to smile and looked up at Derek, "Babe."

Derek grinned back at him, "Yeah?"

Spencer chuckled quietly, eyes locked on his partner, "I don't know why that made me feel better, but it did."

"Damn straight it did," Derek winked, leaning forward to kiss Spencer. The dancer smiled into the kiss and backed away at an awkward angle. Spencer paused, "Oh, wait. You were going in for a longer kiss?"

Derek started to laugh, "Yeah."

Spencer blushed and turned his head a little bit, "Okay, I'll just like… lean this way and…"

Derek took Spencer's face in his hands and ran his thumbs along Spencer's soft reddening cheeks, kissing his nose briefly before leaning in and pressing his lips against Spencer's. Spencer reached up and placed his hand over Derek's, accepting his kiss with a small upturn of his lips. Derek kissed him with tenderness, holding him as if he were something precious and prized, cherishing their moment together with all that he had.

Spencer pulled away for a moment with a small laugh, "I know it's probably really lame of me to say this, but… my heart still jumps like crazy when you kiss me like that."

"That's not lame, it's cute." Derek chuckled against Spencer's lips, lifting his hand to Spencer's chest, "Can I feel it?"

Spencer spoke back with a subtle smile, "It's kind of dying down now. Kiss me again and get closer."

"That was smooth as fuck, man," Derek shook his head.

Spencer grinned, "I know right? I should write a book."

Derek shoved at his shoulder before pulling Spencer even closer than he was before and sliding his hand under Spencer's sweater to settle against Spencer's heart. Spencer wrapped an arm around Derek's shoulder and placed his fingers gently along Derek's jawline as he nudged his way into the kiss. It took a few moments, but soon, Spencer's breaths grew curt and hot and Derek felt a soft thrumming under his palm. Both of Spencer's arms wrapped around his neck, climbing into his lap as Derek drew his free hand down to his strong thighs. Derek panted out, palm still pressed to Spencer's chest, "Wow, it's beating so fast."

Spencer glanced into Derek's eyes and nuzzled into his cheek, "I know."

Derek kissed him once more, feeling a fullness in his chest growing bigger and bigger with each passing moment . Everything felt perfect. At last. They were together. Spencer was giving them a shot, and now they had the entire world ahead of them. He almost wonders where they'll be a week from now, a month, a year. Yes, there are no promises, but the two of them had been through so much shit in the last six weeks. Ups, downs, kisses, fights, successes and pitfalls. After all of that, they should be damn near indestructible. With Spencer smiling and blushing with his arms around him**—**so happy, so adoring**—**Derek finally felt free. He felt like the happiest man in the whole damned world. He'd sing it from the rooftops, shout it to the world below from a hulking mountain. He wanted everyone to know how happy he was right at this moment, because this right here was what total and complete bliss felt like. Derek told Spencer that he loved him twice more. He couldn't stop saying it, it was pouring from him like lemonade in an overflowing glass. He couldn't stop kissing Spencer and holding him close in his arms. He never wanted to let this moment go.

Spencer stayed quiet for a long while, letting Derek hold him and kiss him, listening to Derek's soft words before he whispered into his ear so quietly that Derek almost missed it. The words rushed through his rosy lips in a single breath like a reverent prayer. His long, pale fingers clutched at Derek's shoulders when he spoke them, face hidden in his shirt as he spoke them.

"_I love you too_."

* * *

**A/N: It's so satisfying to finally hear that from Spencer!**

**Love,**

**Blue**

**P.S. I'm going to be going on a one week posting hiatus! I'm spending the weekend with my family and I KNOW that I won't have time to edit and fine-tune.**


	6. Coming Out: A Tutorial by Derek Morgan

**A/N: Hey, guys.**

**Last week had an uploading hiccup because there was a freak snowstorm in my part of America and my school closed down for five days straight. My dorm has really shitty heating systems, so I had to go home (since I didn't want to get sick from the cold). Thing is, my family lives at home and when I'm with them... whoa buddy. They want every single second of my time. It's "Blue, do this" and "Blue, spend time with me" and "Blue, help me with my homework" and I knew that it would be near impossible to get any work done with them around. That's the same reason why there was a month long break between Raising the Barre pt 1 and The Tipping Pointe. I was home. During that entire month, I got no writing or editing done. It was a fucking mess. So, when the school announced that closing on Wednesday, I was like... fuck.**

**So, without further ado, here's the chapter that would have been up last week if I hadn't been shoveling snow and being a good little daughter who doesn't write guy-on-guy smut and post it on the Internet.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER SIX: Coming Out: A Tutorial by Derek Morgan

Derek awoke to the sound and feel of a phone vibrating in his constricting denim pocket. He groaned into the cold, hard surface his face was pressed up against. Awesome. He slept on the floor last night. There was a stiffness in his neck and a creak in his lower back that didn't seem to want to pop back into place no matter how many tiny shimmies he executed. Derek sucked his teeth and reached down to his pocket to pull out his phone. He didn't even glance at the name strewn across it before answering, "Hmm, 'lo?"

A soft voice spoke quietly, "Hey… did I wake you?"

Derek murmured tiredly, sitting up and leaning against the wall, "Kinda."

"Sorry. Spencer said you two decided to move rehearsal to 8 this morning instead of 11," Lila chirped with a smile he could damn near hear through the phone, "He told me that we have to make up the time because we have Saturday off, so… does that mean what I think it means? Did you finally pop the question?"

Derek yawned and ran a hand down his face, "Mmhm. Yeah. I did."

Lila probed, "And he said…"

Derek's eyes fluttered closed.

Lila hissed, "Derek!"

Derek snorted and blinked hard, "What?! Huh?!"

Lila started to giggle softly, "How late a night did you have?"

"Late enough. Shit… what time is it?" Derek replied lazily, glancing around the room to see light streaming in through the living room curtains. Paper balls were still strewn across the floor and the coffee table was still slightly askew. His head thumped against the wall as he smiled to himself. The two men kissed all night long. It was late at the time and they were tired, but they just couldn't keep their hands off of each other. Spencer had held him close, wrapped Derek up in his soft vanilla scent, brushed his scratchy cheek against his neck. Their lips chapped against each other's and Derek knotted his hands into Spencer's hair. They whispered words of love and promise through breaths and soft kisses until Spencer slowly fell limp in Derek's hands. The last thing Derek remembered was brushing Spencer's hair out of his face and watching him rest with a contented smile. And then he woke up on the floor cold and discombobulated.

Lila added after a pause, "Around quarter to seven. I was going to ask if you want me to bring bagels or something. My hotel's near a Dunkin Donuts and**—**"

Derek smiled tiredly, "Yes. Thank you. You're a goddess, Lila."

Lila replied, "Duh. How do you take your coffee?"

Derek answered, "I don't. I'm cutting back, so I'm snagging some of Spencer's expensive Peruvian shit and leaving it at that."

Lila answered, "Cool, makes it easier for me. Just bagels then."

"Whoa. Hold up," Derek leaned his head against the wall, "_I'm_ the one who's concerned about my health. Spencer, on the other hand, has a serious problem. No coffee at rehearsal equals Apocalypse."

"Oh, my God. We don't want that. How does he take it?" Lila asked.

Derek replied, "Three creams and four sugars. _Two_ medium sized cups, preferably."

"Three creams and four sugars?!" Lila gasped, "How has he not run into medical problems?"

Derek mused, "…I don't know. You'd have to ask him."

Lila let out a worried chuckle, "Alright, whatever. I'll get him the coffee. But, you should probably talk to him about his sugar consumption levels. He's not twelve anymore. His metabolism is slowing down**—**he should really watch it."

"Yeah, try telling him anything," Derek replied, glancing around the empty, soundless room and finding no Spencer, "Wait… speaking of the little weirdo, where is he?"

Lila scoffed, "How would I know?"

Derek pulled the phone away and called into the hallway, "Hey, kid! You still here?"

Spencer's voice trailed in from the bathroom, "Yeah! I'm about to take a shower! Why?"

Derek spoke into the phone, "Oh, okay. He's in the bathroom."

Lila replied, "You're... at his place?"

Derek sighed, shrugging his shoulders against the wall again, "Yeah. I was going to go home last night, but we just got tired and—_shit_. I totally parked in a four-hour space," Derek ran his hand down his face, "Probably got a ticket."

Lila started to laugh, "Dude, you _definitely_ got a ticket."

Derek complained, "Dammit."

Lila answered, "Well, I'll see you two homos in a few hours. Try to get here in one piece, okay?"

"Rodger that," Derek replied, hanging up the phone with a solid click. He pulled himself up on achy, creaking muscles and padded his way through the living room to the hallway in his socks. It was warm, the morning air still as the sturdy floor creaked underfoot. The silence and lack of motion in the room was a strange mix of calming and unsettling. Derek finds himself suddenly missing his dog. The heavy tread of four paws meandering their way from room to room, the gruff snuffle of his snores, tripping over the beast when he falls asleep in the most inconvenient places he can come up with**—**Clooney carved his way into Derek's life ever since he'd seen the little pup in a shelter, staring up at him with those big green eyes and begging to be loved. He needs to hound his dog sitter for another Skype session. He hasn't seen the little guy in weeks. As he reached the bathroom, Derek heard the lazy shuffling on the other side of the door and smiled to himself. He wonders if Spencer would like him. Derek hopes so. Those two would be beyond cute together, caught in a snooze and leaning on each other. Yeah, that would be great. The side of Derek's mouth quirked up in a small smile as he knocked on the door. He called to his partner, forehead against the cool wood, "Hey, kid, you in the shower yet?"

Spencer replied quickly, "No."

Derek added, "Good. You know what they say about going in the water, right?"

Spencer paused, "…no, I don't."

Derek grinned suavely, "Always bring a buddy."

The sound of the door locking strummed through the door handle and Derek folded his arms, pouting as he muttered out his response. Spencer's voice carried through the other side of the door, "Eww, Derek. You're not watching me shower. What's wrong with you?"

Derek paused, "What? No. I mean, I was going to watch, but I wasn't going to _watch _watch. That would be weird."

Spencer scoffed from the other side of the door, "Then, what did you mean by it?"

Derek gave out a small smile, "I meant that we could conserve water and take a shower at the same time, you know? Get clean together and maybe a little dirty while we're at it. Sounds awesome, I know."

"Oh, please," Spencer said in a tone so flippant that Derek could damn near _hear_ his eyes rolling, "We're not there yet. We're not _anywhere near_ there yet."

Derek asked him, "What do you mean, we're not there yet? I've seen you naked. And I'd like to see you naked covered in soap. I can't see the problem here."

Spencer let out a deep sigh, "Derek. Think about it: how good a shower can you really have with someone that you want to sleep with staring at you?"

Derek clicked his tongue, "I don't see what you mean."

Spencer started, "Fine. You want to shower with me? Okay. I clip my toenails off of the edge of the tub. You want to see me do that?"

Derek started to shake his head, "…not really."

Spencer added, "Oh, no. But you want to shower with me. Mind if I shave my armpits? I'm getting kind of woodsy."

Derek made a face, "Okay, you're making your point."

Spencer continued, "No, I'm not. Because you want to shower with me. Just give me a second to trim my—"

Derek stopped him, "Whoa! Okay! I get it! We're not there! We are _not_ there! I still see you as a pretty unicorn that doesn't fart, please don't ruin that for me. Not yet."

"I won't. Don't worry," Spencer started to laugh, opening the door and leaning out into the hallway to press a kiss to Derek's cheek, "I'll be done soon and… if my towel slips on my way out…" Spencer kissed Derek's lips softly, "You'll be the first to know."

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Word?"

Spencer ran a finger down Derek's chest and looked him over with interest before he closed the door, "Don't get your hopes up, cowboy. I said '_if',_ didn't I?"

"You're a damned tease, you know," Derek's face grew hot as he stared at the space where Spencer once was, the skin he'd touched leaving lingering trails of tingles. He pressed his hand against the door and a smile formed on his lips as the sound of water started to run. Spencer chuckled knowingly from the other side of the door, "You like it." Stepping away from the door, Derek's smile grew. He headed to the kitchen. Maybe he'll set up a pot of coffee for Spencer, whip up some eggs for him, some toast. No yogurt though. Yeah, Derek's learned from that mistake. A rushed hospital visit and two days of phlemy, ticked off Spencer made sure of that. Derek will just set up something simple and easy. Hopefully his air passages won't close up again. That would suck a lot.

As Derek stepped into the sunny kitchen, he glanced around to see the dishwasher was unloaded, five soggy petals balled up on the counter beside it. Derek winced. Spencer probably had to dig those out of his dishwasher. A mostly empty cup of coffee sat in front of an open pouch of beans and Derek shook his head. No wonder Spencer was so delightful today. He'd already had his morning fix. Derek grabbed the bag and refreshed the coffee maker, putting a small pile of beans on top of the half-full filter. He clicked on the machine and fiddled with it until it started clacking and whirring.

It took only a short while to make the eggs and toast, placing them on their own little plates before Derek glanced up toward the hallway. The water in the bathroom was still going full-force. Derek checked the clock on the microwave. It's been like fifteen minutes and he's still in there. What is he doing, counting each droplet? Slightly worried, Derek strode up to the door and knocked quietly, "Hey… you okay in there?"

Spencer called back, "Huh? Wait. I've got shampoo in my hair. What did you say?"

Derek replied, "Just checking on you, you know, making sure you didn't slip and bump that pretty little head of yours. You've been in there for a while."

Spencer spoke back with distraction in his voice, "Oh, come on. It hasn't been _that_ long."

Derek folded his arms, "Just sayin'. You take more time in the shower than most supermodels. I would know. I've dated a few."

"Well, I'm meticulous. Sue me," Spencer answered moodily, "Since you're so bored, you can always busy yourself with fixing my printer like you said you were going to do last night."

Derek sighed, "Ugh, _fine_. Nag."

Spencer's voice trailed through the door, "Well, you wanted to date me. Now we're dating. Nagging is a privilege that I now have, and guess what, buddy? I will use it to its full extent. That and 'Snuggle Time'**—**taking hella advantage of that."

Derek answered, "Privileges can be revoked."

"So can sex," Spencer replied easily, chucking to himself after a long beat of silence, "…oh, so now you're all quiet."

Derek leaned against the door and said into the wood, "You make jokes now, but once I lay it down on you, 'quiet' is going to be the last word out of your mouth."

Spencer started to laugh, "Wow, that statement was really douchey even for you. Why are you such a bad flirt?"

Derek answered, "You love it."

Spencer's laughter slowed, "I love _you_."

Derek chuckled, "You've said that like twenty-something times since last night. You sure you're not trying to butter me up for something?"

Spencer replied, "I totally am. Maybe if I get on your good side, you'll actually fix my printer. My paper is due tonight and I would like to actually get my Masters before I get to be like… _your_ age."

Derek muttered, "You know what, smart ass? You're lucky this door is locked."

Spencer said with a teasing hint to his voice, "Oh, Derek. It isn't locked anymore."

Derek's hand got the the knob lightning quick as he opened the door and walked into the room. It was stuffy and heavy with condensation. The mirrors were all fogged up, the moisture was in the air, and the entire bathroom smelled like that luscious pine vanilla. Derek took a deep breath and leaned against the counter, staring at the shower curtain, "You're gonna get it now, Pretty Boy. You're really going to get it."

"At least wait until I'm out," Spencer replied from behind the curtain, "I have a shampoo afro right now. Not the sexiest thing in the world."

Derek hopped up to sit on the sink and grabbed his toothbrush, still sitting in the tin can beside Spencer's where he'd left it last time, "...you kept my toothbrush?"

Spencer paused and said quietly, "I kind of... hoped you'd need it again."

Derek smiled, "You must have missed the shit out of me. You had like twelve other disposable brushes. You honestly could have thrown it out and it wouldn't have made a difference."

Spencer whipped back, "Yeah, but that was the only red one left and you always picked the red ones, because it's your favorite color. And when I saw it next to mine it just felt... I don't know. Like you were still using it, even though we broke up."

Derek cackled, "You've got such a crush on me! You like me so much, oh, my God! Awwh, Spencer! You're so cute!"

"Shut up! God, I can't stand you!" Spencer hissed from behind the curtain.

"You love me. You scribble my name in your notebooks and you want to want to live with me and make me sandwiches and have my babies," Derek laughed, taking his toothbrush and placing it loosely in his mouth. He briefly considered turning on the sink water just to fuck with Spencer, but the kid's already been teased enough. At least for the rest of the morning anyway. Derek smiled to himself. Spencer really did miss him while they were apart. It felt good to know that. While Spencer was yelling at him and ignoring him and treating him like shit, every morning and night for that painfully long week, he would place his toothbrush right next to Derek's and hope that they could find their way out of this rut they'd placed themselves in. He would hope that Derek would share that little tin with him someday.

Yes, it was something very small in Spencer's house. Just a tiny little toothbrush holder. But, now, it was something they shared. A symbol of their budding relationship. Derek had a place in Spencer's home now, and even though it was small and temporary... it could grow. Maybe later, the toothbrush tin would become a few hangers and a few hangers would become a drawer. That drawer could become a nightstand and that nightstand could become a parking spot. That parking spot could become Clooney and Clooney could become a shared lease one day.

That little red toothbrush meant a lot more than it seemed. Indeed, it did.

* * *

Since it was still pretty early, Derek and Spencer took their time getting over to the studio. By the time they'd both showered and eaten, they had about an hour or so left before rehearsal. Derek spent around twenty minutes tinkering around with Spencer's printer in their free time and Spencer lay on the couch with a book in his hand. It seemed like he was flipping pages every few seconds and Derek probably blamed it on the jammed ink cartridge staining his fingers or the fact that the damned thing was letting out dark puffs of smoke. Derek wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and tried to reattach the misplaced cartridge despite the smoke creeping out of the vent. He panted and tried wiggling his fingers into the tight space, coming up empty. His hands were too big.

Derek grunted and shifted on his knees, squinting as he got his pinky to push just so. Maybe he could align it into the proper space before the smoke puffed out**—**heat poured onto Derek's face in the form of a grey puff. Derek hissed at it in frustration and wiped his sweaty forehead again.

Spencer replied distractedly from the couch, "Maybe you should take your shirt off. Might help."

Derek turned and gave Spencer a flat look, "_You_ could help."

"Eh… I could," Spencer flipped the page of his book, eyes scanning it as his finger stroked the new page, "but, I'd rather not."

Derek muttered under his breath and after a few seconds, he heard Spencer flip another page. He turned around, "Come on, really? It's not like you're busy. You're not even reading that book."

Spencer's eyes trailed down the first page and the second aimlessly and as he followed his finger, he turned another page, "Yes, I am."

"You're barely even looking at it," Derek turned to the printer, prodding at the cartridge as finally clicking it in place. He wiped his hands on the rag before turning to him briefly, "You're just fingering the pages. I understand that we all have our kinks, but... that can't possibly be doing something for you."

Spencer chuckled and glanced over at Derek, pushing a lock of damp hair behind his ear, "My hand is keeping my eyes in line. I read 20,000 words a minute."

Derek gave Spencer a look, "Bullshit."

Spencer added, "And since I have an eidetic memory, I've already memorized half of this book."

Derek scoffed, "Not every word though."

Spencer started to nod.

Derek rolled his eyes, "That's impossible."

Spencer shook his head.

"Gimmie it, then," Derek reached for the book, challenge in his eyes as he closed the book, glanced at the page number, and looked up at Spencer smugly, "Ooh. Look, I closed it. Lost your page."

Spencer answered easily, "I was on page 64, line 23, word 8. I never lose my page," he paused, "What does it feel like though? Using bookmarks and not knowing where you left off? Do you have to like… read the same pages over again until you find it? How frustrating."

How the fuck did Spencer know that page number? That can't be real. He can't have memorized all of that, especially with how quickly he was flipping through the book. It can't be done. Spencer has to be tricking him somehow. Derek huffed, flipping through the book, "I'll get you. I will. Just wait. Ah! Page 37. Here we go. Finish this. '_Some commentators have argued that in recent years a form of_**—**"

Spencer continued with his eyes locked on Derek's, "'_Fusion paranoia has emerged, in which the traditional left and right wing fringes bond together, with, for example, militia websites quoting Noam Chomsky. However, the problem is not so much that a new and even more dangerous cluster of fringe politics is emerging which_—"

Derek stopped Spencer with a raised finger, "You're scaring me. Please stop."

Spencer worried, smacking a hand to his forehead, "Dammit. I should have at least summarized the wording, shouldn't I? Now you think I'm strange."

Derek blinked, "How… how do you do that? Are you a magician? Are you psychic? Are you pulling my leg or something?"

Spencer shook his head, "No. I'm just weird."

"I wouldn't say weird. Different, more like," Derek handed the book back to him and staring at him with an entertained squint, "I mean, that's fucking _awesome_."

Spencer blushed and scratched behind his neck bashfully, "You're not freaked out?"

Derek grinned, "Oh, no. I'm hella freaked out. That doesn't mean it's not cool. You've memorized everything you've ever read? Seriously?"

Spencer nodded, "Yeah."

Derek asked, "How long have you been able to do that?"

Spencer sat up on the couch and shrugged, pulling one of his legs up and hugging it loosely, "Since I was three."

"Three? Three?!" Derek gasped, "Man, I couldn't even read until I was six."

Spencer winced, "Six is kind of late."

Derek shrugged easily, "I know. My parents thought my brain was slow. It wasn't that. I just… took my time with life."

Spencer started to laugh, leaning his head on his folded arms as he stared fondly back at Derek, "You take your time with a lot of stuff. Like warm up stretches, and kisses, and… coffee."

"It's an art, okay? Not a hindrance. I like to enjoy the little things. Is that so wrong?" Derek pointed at Spencer, "Besides, you need me to counter you, Mr. Speedy. You do everything in a rush. You need me to slow you down sometimes."

Spencer reached out a hand, "Come here."

Derek asked, "Why?"

Spencer smiled and cocked his head to the side, biting his lip gently before answering, "You're right. My mind is moving at 90 miles an hour right now. Slow me down."

"You didn't say 'please'," Derek said loftily, leaving the dusty printer's side and hopping up. He walked over to Spencer and stood above him with his hands in his pockets. Spencer said the magic word and stared expectantly back up at him, raising his hand to trail his fingers down Derek's bare arm. He looked so comfortable sitting there too. Lounging there in his baggy sweats and long thermal as if he didn't have a care in the world with wide eyes and his hair curly and darkened with dampness, Spencer reached up and tugged impatiently on Derek's tee shirt. Derek chuckled, "I can't slow you down if you keep asking me to hurry up."

Spencer pouted, eyebrows pulling up and lips poking out in frustration. He made a discontented noise and his large brown eyes stayed on Derek's as he pulled his fingers from Derek's shirt. Derek placed a hand at Spencer's face, "You're so cute when you throw one of those little tantrums, you know that?"

The dancer rolled his eyes, pulling his leg down from where it was up on the couch and as he did, Derek climbed on top of him. His legs were on either side of Spencer's hips and he placed his hands gently on Spencer's shoulders, "I mean it. You're a handsome guy."

Spencer's eyes wandered to some space behind Derek's head, "Sure."

Derek nudged his nose against Spencer's and kissed his lips softly, "One day, you'll believe me. I swear it. If I do nothing else… I'm gonna make sure that you see what I see."

Spencer glanced back at Derek with a flat, sarcastic look, "Alright, Patrick Swayze. Challenge accepted. You got me to fall for you, maybe the impossible will slaughter itself once more."

Derek let out a laugh and kissed Spencer once more, "Just wait and see. You'll be admiring yourself in the mirror soon. I'll have to tear you away from your own reflection."

Spencer pushed at Derek's chest and started to snicker, "Oh, okay."

"You'll be making out with your candids and shit," Derek chuckled, mocking Spencer's voice, "Ooh, Spencer! So sexy!"

Spencer's head tossed back against the back of the couch as he laughed, "Stop! You're so full of shit."

Derek nudged at Spencer, nuzzling into the dip between his partner's neck and shoulder, "Why? You seem to think it's funny. Plus, if I could like clone you and watch you make out with yourself, that would be hot as hell."

"If anyone were to waste advanced cloning technology on something hedonistic, it would be you," Spencer shook his head with a grin and ran a finger down the back of Derek's neck as they tangled up together on the couch. Derek replied, "Damn right," into Spencer's tee shirt and Spencer pulled his partner's face up to kiss at his jaw. Spencer held Derek's face in his hands and stared into his eyes for a long moment, "I can't believe we're actually dating."

Derek replied, "Well, we are."

Spencer rubbed his thumb along Derek's cleanly shaven cheek, "I still can't get my head wrapped around the fact that you actually want me. I mean you think I'm weird. Why do you even like me like that?"

Derek answered easily without missing a beat, "Your ass."

Spencer chuckled mirthfully, "That answer didn't take long at all, did it? There was absolutely no hesitation on that one."

Derek shrugged, "You have a nice butt. Firm, round, cushiony. It calls to me, and I must answer."

Spencer pulled Derek down and kissed his lips gently, "I'm starting to think that you have emotional feelings for my ass that conflict with normal human logic."

"I definitely do. It's a problem. I should probably see a shrink about it," Derek snickered, kissing Spencer softly and pulling back to stare off into the distance, "Imagine that opening conversation though: Hello, Doctor, I have an unhealthy obsession with my boyfriend's ass."

Spencer smiled fondly, laying back against the back of the seat and pulling Derek closer, "Call me your boyfriend again."

Derek leaned forward and kissed Spencer's lips, "My boyfriend."

Spencer kissed him back, breathing in between each part of their lips, "Your boyfriend."

* * *

By the time they'd made it to the studio, their hands were linked and swinging between them as they walked up the two flights of stairs. Spencer pulled Derek close beside the door. He shushed Derek and told him that Lila was inside, but he wasn't ready to walk in yet. He tugged on Derek's tee shirt and tugged him closer, pressing kiss after sweet kiss to Derek's lips. His lips were warm and soft and he smelled like minty aftershave and that vanilla shampoo. He felt like home. Derek took his partner's hips in his hands and steadied them from where they stood leaning against the wall.

Derek felt Spencer's hands wandering like they usually do, but this time it was a lot more tame. Gentle, soft. Casual. One of his hands rested on the side of Derek's face while the other was trailing fingers down Derek's back. Derek pushed him closer into the wall. Spencer laughed gently against his lips and pressed into him, kissing him with a gentleness that was as addictive as all hell. Derek just wanted to stand here forever, kissing Spencer, being happy.

There was a sharp clapping of hands and Spencer pushed Derek off of him, straightening his hair with his hands as Lila stood at the open studio door with her arms folded. Spencer opened his mouth and nothing came out, whereas Derek just wore a sated grin. Lila rolled her eyes, "Okay, I get it. You two are madly in love with each other. Are we going to rehearse now or are you two going to keep sucking each others cocks in the hallway?"

Spencer blushed hard, pushing his hair frantically behind his ears, "I'm so sorry. That was very unprofessional."

"Damn right it was," Lila replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing across the touch screen, "Speaking of, have either of you talked to your agents about this yet? Mine's been blowing up my phone lately for 'getting in between the bromance'."

Spencer leaned against the wall beside the door and replied, "Well, I'm not a big star like you two, so I don't have an agent to call."

Derek shrugged, "I do... I guess, I'll get around to it at some point."

Lila spoke, fingers typing quickly, "Should probably hop to it if you're going to tongue fuck in public like that."

Spencer folded his arms indignantly, "There was no tongue."

Derek raised his eyebrows.

Spencer sighed, "Fine. There was a little tongue. Still, I don't see why I can't kiss him in the hallway. It's not like—"

Lila held up her phone and showed them a picture that must have been taken mere seconds ago. Derek and Spencer were clearly wrapped up in each other, caught in a moment of romantic bliss. Derek cocked his head to the side and peered at the picture. It would have been hotter if it was taken from a different angle, but he can settle for it. Spencer's hands look bigger than they are when they're pressed up against Derek's skin due to the start contrast of their coloring. His hair was also kind of a wreck. A cute wreck, but a wreck nonetheless. Lila continued, "I have the phone numbers of every major newspaper in Los Angeles, New York, Philadelphia, and Miami. It's only been six seconds and your reputations are in the palm of my hand… literally."

Spencer snatched the phone away from her and stared it down, "When did you**—**"

Lila shrugged, "I heard you two big lugs meandering up the steps like elephants. Then, y'all started boo loving on each other and I decided a lesson needed to be taught."

Spencer tapped at the phone with his finger over and over, "Fuck, how do you delete it!"

"Not so fast, Sparky." Lila started to laugh and took the phone back, "Do you know how much this would sell for?"

Derek gave Lila a look, "A lot. You're not actually going to send it to anyone, are you?"

Lila shook her head, "Come on. Of course, I won't. I've got some screws loose, but I'm not a heartless bitch. Not completely anyway," she looked Spencer over, "If I didn't respect Tall, Dark, and Nerdy so much, I might be tempted. But, as hard as it may be to believe, I have some semblance of a soul. This picture was taken for two reasons and two reasons only: to knock some sense into you guys and documentation for personal reasons."

Spencer made a face, "Eww."

Lila rolled her eyes and glanced at Derek, asking, "Want me to send it to you?"

Derek nodded, "Please."

"Hey!" Spencer smacked at Derek's chest with the back of his hand before staring Lila down, "There will be no sending. There will be no personal reasons. I want it gone. Now."

Lila scoffed, "You can't make me do anything, cutie. Unlike your little lapdog over there, you don't have me collared and obedient at your command."

Derek started to chuckle, "That's actually kind of hot."

Lila laughed, pushing at Derek's shoulder comically, "I know, right?"

Spencer let out an agonized noise, shoving past the two of them and striding into Studio B after throwing his hands up, "Let me know when you two weirdos want to learn to Rumba. Meanwhile, I'll be pretending I don't know either of you."

Lila held the door open for Derek, "You heading in after your hot psycho boyfriend? I sure as hell am. Maybe his inhibitions will get all loose under stress and he'll make out with me like he did when he was on crack."

Derek replied, "It wasn't crack, it was Dilaudid."

Lila paused, "_Oh_… that explains a lot."

Derek asked, "Does it?"

"Yeah," Lila nodded, quieting to a whisper and making a motion with her hand, "He never could… you know… make his sailor salute."

Derek's eyes widened, taking a breath, "Dilaudid doesn't do that to people. Besides, he never had that problem with me."

Lila ran a finger down Derek's chest and looked him over appraisingly, "Who could?"

Derek let out a flirtatious grin, "Whoa. You should probably slow it down, darlin'. My hot psycho boyfriend wouldn't be too happy about this."

"You act like he wouldn't be invited to play with us," Lila winked, pushing at the door, "Come on, tiger. We've got some choreo to work out."

Derek hesitated, "…you go ahead. I have a phone call to make."

"Good," Lila smiled at him and placed a hand on his arm, "We'll wait up for you, okay?"

Derek answered, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, "Thanks." As she walked away, he scrolled through his contacts until he found the right name. He paused over it and the name stared back at him above a Chicago area code. Dammit, Derek didn't even know how to begin talking to her. Truth be told, he was kind of putting this whole conversation off. He'd never actually gotten around to coming out to her. It's not like he didn't plan to on several occasions. They're friends**—**cousins, actually, but… it just didn't happen. It's always hard coming out to someone you're close to, especially someone like Derek.

Only his mother and sisters really know he's bisexual and even then, he never actually had to _tell_ either of them. His mom figured it out when he was in the sixth grade and couldn't keep his eyes off of Kenny Washington. He'd left a gay porn mag on his bed when Desiree walked in to talk when they were in high school, and when she picked it up… well, he didn't have to say much. Sarah, on the other hand, found out in the worst way possible and to this day he feels shame for it. Derek invited one of his out-of-state college football buddies over for Thanksgiving, and she walked in on them doing "stuff" in the bathroom... "stuff" that consisted of Derek scrubbing the floor with his knees and stuffing his mouth as full as he could and yeah, you get the picture. Anyone else Derek had physically "came out" to over the years has either dated him, or was living with someone he dated. But, this was different. This was one of his best friends since he was a kid. This was _Cindi_. They played tag and went to the roller rink and stuck bubble gum in each other's hair. They had serious history. He doesn't know what he'd do if she rejects him.

Then—if Cindi even continues to work with him—he'll have to formally come out to the world at some point. Now, Derek had thought about it before at length. He doesn't give a fuck what people think of him, he really doesn't. Derek wouldn't be the first retired football player to come out as LGBT and he wouldn't be the last. Hell, he'd be doing more good than harm when it comes down to the fact that he was a part of the Superbowl winning team and had an MVP trophy on his mantle. To hell with the "queer men can't play sports" stereotype; Derek would be glad to join the many living testaments to that fact.

Thing is… the whole… getting the words out of his mouth thing. It's just... really fucking hard to _say_. He can't really voice it normally. Marcus was the first person he'd ever come out to, _ever_. And Derek was twenty-five at the time. When he was talked to Marcus about it, he approached him after everyone else in the locker room cleared out. It was a few weeks after that fateful game day and their very public touchdown kiss. Marcus turned and looked at him, wiping his face with a towel after picking up a tee shirt and pulling it over his head, "You okay, man?" Derek proceeded to stare awkwardly at him and make weird eye contact, "Marcus… there's something I have to tell you."

Marcus shrugged, shoving the towel into his duffel bag of dirty clothes and cleats, "Shoot. Just make it quick. I've got to go pick up my mom from the airport."

Derek opened his mouth, "I'm… I… well, I…" Derek closed his mouth and laughed nervously, "Well, sometimes, when… uh… whew," Derek panicked, "Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be."

He didn't even know why he was nervous. Marcus admitted to having feelings for him the night after they'd kissed. Marcus told him flat out that he was gay. It shouldn't be this hard. He pretty much teed it all up for Derek's response. There was literally nothing to be afraid of.

Marcus leaned against the locker knowingly, giving him a glance full of understanding, "I promise, I won't judge you."

Derek took a deep breath, "I just… I'm kind of… bi. I'm bi. Not kind of bi, totally bi. Very bi. Bi. I'm bi."

"Bi, huh? Wow. Damn. Can't say I saw that coming." Marcus laughed and pushed Derek's shoulder playfully, "I'm glad you told me, man."

Derek paused, "…you are?"

Marcus smiled proudly, "Yeah. Took guts."

Derek let out a shaky answering smile, "It, uh... it did."

Marcus strode closer to Derek, eyes steady on his, "Plus, I really have a thing for the way you catch my passes. If you know what I mean, QB."

It quickly became very embarrassing and Derek stammered his way into their second kiss. Then, it got less embarrassing. Especially when they fucked desperately in the Head Coach's office ten minutes later. It wasn't embarrassing anymore at that point, it was just bordering on dangerously stupid and stupidly dangerous. While it was a good memory, it had never really gotten easier for him to come out. He never really had to on many occasions, and taking the easy way out just worked for him. He let people see what they wanted to see in him, and he was content in his old ways of only his close companions knowing the dirty details of his life. But now, he had to leave it all behind. For Spencer. Yeah, Derek was scared, but he'd do it all over again. He'd tell every planet in the galaxy—shout it from the rooftops—just to be able to love Spencer the way he deserves to be loved. A man that beautiful shouldn't be hidden away in a bathroom stall. He should be celebrated, appreciated. And so should their love.

So, Derek stared at his phone, finger hovering over Cindi's name with worry, but also with conviction. It was time. He had to do it now, or risk her finding out another, much more unpleasant way as Lila so painfully proved. Derek took a deep breath and let the pad of his thumb rest on the screen, her picture popping up on the screen as the dial tone passed. He pressed the phone to his ear and leaned against the wall. Within moments, he heard her voice speak out in a rush, "Derek! Hey! What's up, kiddo?"

Derek's heart rate picked up and his palms grew clammy. He could feel himself getting that sticky stress sweat under his arms and in the dip of his back and the butterflies in his stomach increased by the second. He wasn't so sure he wanted to do this anymore, "H-hey, girl. I'm chillin'. You?"

"You know how it is. I'd like to say the same, but I've got this one client who's driving me up the wall. Actresses, you know?" she replied loftily. Derek could hear paperwork shifting on the other end of the phone, "So, what's up? You never say you're '_chillin'_ unless you either fucked up or you're about to fuck up, so you'd might as well get it over with now."

Derek felt a knot in his throat choking him out of his speech, and his whole body seemed to cave in on itself and stand on a live wire at the same time. He spoke quietly, "I… uh… shit. This isn't easy to say."

Cindi's voice fell, the shuffling of paper coming to a sudden stop, "Oh, crap. You're not in a holding cell again, are you? Because I swear to God, Derek, I'm not bailing you out again. You've got your momma for that, and I'd rather not be caught in the crossfire when Auntie Francie is involved."

Derek shook his head, "No. I'm not locked up. Glad you think so highly of me."

Cindi let out a sigh of relief, "Well, don't act like it hasn't happened before. Remember that one time in the tenth grade when you kicked that guy's ass for calling Sarah a whore? I had to pretend to be Auntie and let me tell you, it was harder than it seemed."

Derek started to speak, "You don't have to worry about that again. I didn't do anything illegal or anything. I just called to tell you something… about myself."

Cindi paused, "What could you possibly have to tell me? I know everything about you."

Derek leaned back on his heels, hand shaking at his sides as he beat around the bush, "Not _everything_."

Cindi pressed into him, "What is it, then?"

Derek breathed out before he could stop himself, "Well… I, uh... Cinny—I'm bisexual."

Cindi answered flippantly, "Okay, that's nice. Good for you. Now, what do you need to tell me? I've got lawyers on speed dial, if it comes down to it."

Derek sighed into phone, "Dammit, girl. For the millionth time, I'm not in trouble with the law. _That_ was what I had to say, alright. I'm not in prison or anything."

"_Oh_. Kiddo, was that all? You're bi?" Cindi started to laugh, "Goodness, thank God. You had me thinking you shot the President or something. Boy, you scared the shit out of me!"

"Good," Derek chuckled nervously, adding, "I also have something else that I have to tell you about…"

Cindi spoke with a voice, quivering with laughter, "You're screwing your dance partner, aren't you?"

Derek paused, "How did you know?"

Cindi added with ease, "He flat out told America that he wanted to climb you like a tree and _you've_ been making eyes at him like you want him slathered in whipped cream since like Week Two. I'm guessing you two had a talk about it and made a serious decision about going public if you're calling me and saying '_I'm chillin_'."

Derek scratched behind his neck, "You're right. But, it's pretty complicated."

"I eat 'complicated' for breakfast. I'm a talent agent," Cindi replied, "Tell me what we're dealing with here."

Derek started, "Well, Spencer's been receiving threatening phone calls from the Executive Producer. He doesn't want us in the competition because of our unconventional pairing."

Cindi scoffed, "Fuck what he thinks. You guys are fantastic together."

Derek continued, "That's what I thought, but he's got some serious leverage on us. He fixed the dances to trip us up, hired Christian mobs to freak us out during Spotlight dances, brought in Spencer's ex and making us dance with her, and… he kind of… has a sex tape."

Cindi paused for a long moment. He could almost feel her anger radiating from over the phone. She hissed out through her teeth, "He. Has. A. _What_?!"

Derek whimpered, leaning back against the wall and tapping his head against it, "I know, I know. It's fucking horrible. Spencer and I hooked up in the studio after hours and the producer had our cameras on longer than was legally allowed. We thought we were alone, I swear. But, now, it doesn't matter whether he crossed lines, broke rules, nothing. He's got a smoking gun in his hand and we have to get the hell out of dodge before he decides to fire it."

Cindi said quickly, "He wants you to leave, then get the fuck out of that show. I don't care if you have to shoot yourself in the legs. Just do what he asks, trust me. You do not want a tape like that out there. It's poison—especially if you're not publically Out."

Derek spoke, "We're going to choreo a bad dance this week and purposefully tank the competition. If we don't, someone's going to smell a rat."

Cindi rolled her eyes so hard, Derek could hear it, "That's a really bad idea, Derek. That boyfriend of yours is too talented to come up with something shitty. He can't physically do it. He's_ the Prince of Ballroom_. The ideal would be for you to suddenly come down with a crippling illness or something bad enough to knock you out for at least a few months. Cancer would work. Cancer always works. It's terrifying and no one questions it. Besides, you're already bald, so…"

Derek chastised her, "_Cindi_."

Cindi asked, "Come on, man. How about Mono?"

Derek repeated, "Cindi, I'm not lying about my health. And if I ever got Mono, I damn sure wouldn't publicize it."

"Fine, since you don't want to fake sick… you could always beat Mr. Producer Guy to the punch. Come out. Tell the world how much you love Skipper, or whatever his name is. Be genuine, be relatable, the whole nine yards. Then, if your Producer from the Black Lagoon decides to strike, you'll already be in an open, committed relationship with the man you're in the sex video with. No one can criticize you too badly for having sex with your boyfriend, I mean, everyone has sex with their boyfriends. Unless… you two are doing the _weird_ stuff." Cindi added, "Because if you're filmed doing freaky shit, I'm sorry. No amount of PR can save you. You are fucked sideways, my friend."

Derek placed a hand over his face in embarrassment, "Gross, girl. We didn't do any 'freaky shit'. We just… you know… gave each other handys. And then, Spencer did this awesome thing that involved his tongue, my dick, and Ernest Hemingway."

Cindi whined out a complain, "Whoa now, I didn't say I wanted _details_, kiddo. I like to pretend that you're a very flirtatious eunuch at best."

Derek started to laugh, "Well, I'm not one. I'm a dude and I have a dude parts. And the whole world is going to see them if Spencer and I don't find a way to throw the competition before the next round begins."

Cindi replied, "Derek, I'm telling you right now, you're best bet is to go public before Monday. As quickly as possible, if you can. Just as a precaution. This isn't something you want to keep quiet, you know? And, if you need extra motivation, it would mean a lot to the LGBT community to see a good sports role model coming out. Yeah, you'll get flamed for it, but it will be worth it. You and your partner have something special. People got to watch the two of you fall in love. No one can refute it. You guys have chemistry, and it grew and grew and grew, and now you two are going to be the cutest little gay couple America has to offer. Especially if your sex tape doesn't get out."

Derek let out a small smile, "You're right. I think we should do that. Besides, we've got a date set up for this weekend and everything. It'd be perfect."

"Aww," Cindi started to giggle, "That's so cute. Where are you two going?"

Derek grinned as he spilled it, "I'm taking him to see the Mariinsky Russian Ballet Troupe. He's wanted to see them for years, and it's a red carpet event, so it would be the perfect place to showcase our relationship. Hell, I'm just glad he said 'yes'."

Cindi said with a smile in her voice, "You must really like him, kiddo."

Derek replied, glancing back to the studio room door, "Yeah. I really do."

* * *

**A/N: Next week, you guys get to see Derek and Spencer's cute little ballet date! I'm way too excited about it lol**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	7. Fifty Shades of (Openly) Gay

**A/N: A crazy snow storm, midterms, a car accident, my best friend's 21st birthday alcohol binge, and my favorite uncle's death all happened last week. I'll let that say what it may about my lack of posting on Sunday. **

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER SEVEN: Fifty Shades of (Openly) Gay

"Alright, Lila, could you follow Derek on eight?" Spencer took a few steps back and rested his back against the mirror, counting off and tapping with his finger against his thigh as he watched Derek and Lila's form. Derek had his hand high on her back and Lila had taken his hand and shoulder. The three had been working on a loose choreography all morning after bouncing ideas off of each other. They'd sat in a sloppy circle beside each other in the middle of the hardwood floor and called out whatever came to their minds first. Long story short, they were coming up empty. All of Spencer's ideas were super lame and all of Derek's were way too extreme, and Lila's? Girly as fuck. No thank you.

They seemed to be getting nowhere with each other, and Spencer glanced around at them with worry. He took a deep breath and sighed, eyes growing tired like they always do when he has to suddenly take charge, and right as he was about to enforce his authority, Lila got really quiet and said, "Bond. James Bond." Derek and Spencer pretty much lost their shit after that, jumping up and whooping loudly. Who didn't want to be a secret agent? Derek sure as hell did. Lila on the other hand grinned at the idea of being the sexy, coveted Bond Girl. Damn it all, the idea was fantastic. But, that doesn't mean that they can't choreograph something horrible to it. They'll just have to work extra hard on it… you know, on being horrible.

Turns out, it was taking a lot more out of Lila than it was Derek, because dancing used to be her life. She went through rigorous training just like Spencer did, and she can't help but raise her chin and keep form and follow through. The woman had been doing it since the beginning of time. So, when Spencer tells her to slouch and lose the tension in her legs and dance like she doesn't care… she gets a little testy.

Lila pushed off of Derek, tossing her hands up in the air, "Okay, _I know_ you know that this dance looks like shit, and for some reason you're okay with that. You're the choreographer, you're the boss. I get it. Just know that this isn't as easy for me as it is for Derek. I mean, I'm classically trained. I have competed internationally in worldwide performances. _He's _the one who stomps around like a pre-fire neanderthal without trying, and I'm sorry, honey, but I can't do that."

Derek glared at her, "Hey."

"No offense," she rolled her eyes at him and strode over to the edge of the room to grab her purse. Lila rifled through it and found her sunglasses, "I just… I need a break."

Derek gasped and moved backwards a step. Oh, shit. Lila did not just say that. Dear Lord, she must not know. The poor girl is ignorant of Spencer's ways. She's only known him sexually, which Derek assumes is wildly different from being in the studio under his instruction. Lila has never before been in Sensei Spencer's sacred dojo. She has never before seen the puff of smoke in his eyes that harshly bursts into a flash of fire as she asks about "break". Derek nearly shook his head as she uttered the words. You never argue with Spencer about break, man, you don't even question it. Never. Break starts when Spencer says it starts, no sooner. Ever. Derek learned that the hard way, and now, Lila is too. Spencer took a deep breath and hissed through his teeth, "Lila."

Oh, shit. He's using The Tone.

Spencer continued in that creepy calm voice that he gets when it would be wise to either run or succumb to his mighty will, "It's not even 11:30 yet. Break isn't for another hour."

Lila placed the sunglasses on her face and pulled her ponytail out, golden hair falling down her back as she gave back a red lipped smirk, "Congratulations, Doc. You can read analogs. Do you want a gold star?"

Ding dong, the bitch is dead.

Spencer's lips tightened, "Lila, get back here. We need to practice**—**"

"Oh, we do now? Let me get something out of my purse that might help you understand me," Lila placed her hand in her designer Dolce bag and moved her hand in there for a moment before withdrawing it and throwing up her middle finger to him, "I want to leave, so I'm leaving. I'll be back in a half hour."

Lila stormed out of the room in a huff and Derek watched as the door slammed behind her. Well. Guess she's done for now then. Derek kind of gets it, Spencer's a hard ass and the whole fish out of water thing sucks, but she has to pull it together. They have a competition to _not_-win here. Derek sighed. Maybe she doesn't understand what's at stake. All she knows is that they're dropping out on purpose. She doesn't know how or… _why_. Spencer urged him not to tell her about the sex tape that they have on the line. He doesn't want anyone to even know it even exists, for that matter. And while Derek sees where Spencer's coming from, he also knows that Lila needs some full disclosure here. She has to understand what hangs in the balance. _Everyone_ has to suck on Monday. Not just Spencer and Derek. The crappiness of their performance has to be a joint percentage of effort, not 66.67%. They're going for the full fucking hundred. If they don't, then both Spencer and Derek's names and careers will be forever tarnished.

Suddenly, Derek heard a loud swear come from the head of the room and there stood Spencer, forehead pressed against the mirrored wall and fist gently tapping against the glass. Maybe Lila's not the only one having a hard time this week. Through the mirror, Derek could see the furrows in Spencer's eyebrows, jaw clenched tight under his skin as he muttered under his breath. Boy, could those pouty pink lips move with a vengeance when they were set on something, let me tell you.

Derek strode across the polished hardwood and approached Spencer, glancing at the door to make sure that they were alone before placing his hand at the small of Spencer's back. The dancer visibly relaxed underneath his touch, but his back still remained tight and coiled. Derek whispered softly into Spencer's ear, "You alright, kid?"

The heavy crease between Spencer's eyebrows started to lessen and he struggled to keep them furrowed in anger at the feel of Derek's warm breath against his skin, but Derek could tell that it was an uphill battle, "I'm fine. It's just… Lila. She's a wonderful woman**—**a classy, sharp, firecracker of a woman**—**but dear God, she is working my nerves right now. I think I'm going to explode. All of my anger is going to form this big ball of energy in the pit of my stomach and when it collapses and bursts, you'll have to clean my bloody ventricles off of the walls."

Derek rested his chin on Spencer's shoulder, "Well, hey. We only have to deal with it for a few more days. Then, your ventricles will be safe."

Spencer sighed, shoulders falling slightly as he mumbled, "Yeah, then you're going to leav—"

"Ah, ah! What did we say before we got here? We're not going to talk about that. This whole competition is about having fun and being happy and learning how to pull that one muscle in your back that you didn't even know you had," Derek started, smiling as Spencer laughed and continuing on with a large grin on his lips, "Dancing is fun and you love it. Yeah, it's stressful sometimes, but this makes you happy. And when you're happy, the whole world brightens up and all the clouds go away just for you." Derek poked his finger into Spencer's cheek, "Because your smile is so great that everything around you feels it."

Spencer folded his arms, "You're so cheesy, I'm surprised you don't come with a drink."

Derek turned Spencer around and pressed his delicate back against the glass, "I may be cheesy, but you're not about to explode anymore. So I win, Pretty Boy."

Spencer glared at Derek, "You won't even let me be upset, will you?"

"Nope, sorry. It was in the contract I signed. It says specifically that if I let you frown for more than twenty seconds, I am to be publically flogged for doing a national disservice," Derek replied, tugging at a lock of Spencer's silky brown hair and wrapping his finger around it, "Plus, you look devastatingly handsome… you know, when you're not glaring at me."

Spencer fought back his laughter and raised a hand to cover his mouth, "Just let me sulk, Derek. Damn!"

Derek pulled gently on the curl he had trapped in his fingers, "Can't do that, man. It's protocol. Don't shoot the messenger."

Spencer raised his thumb and forefinger to Derek's chest and whispered, "Bang."

Derek clutched his heart, "Oh, no! I've been shot!"

Spencer started to laugh and then, he suddenly stopped. Staring at Derek's chest, he gazed and his smile slowly faded. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Spencer had shot the last man he'd ever loved in the chest and killed him instantly. Derek cursed himself. He never should have made that joke. He can nearly see the connections forming in Spencer's mind. He worried aloud, "Shit, I'm sorry, kid. That wasn't funny."

Derek glanced down and felt Spencer's hand press against his heart. His lithe pale fingers running along his clean, blood free tee shirt. Spencer glanced up at Derek, "Don't worry about it. I know that I'll _never_ be that scared of you. Ever. You're a good man, Derek. You're such a good man. I don't think you even realize just how _good_ you are and how uplifted and... shitty you make people feel at the same time."

"Thanks, kid. That means a lot coming from you," Derek replied with a hand on Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer continued, "It's true. You have this relentless drive in you that—for the life of me—I will never understand. You care about people so much that you would give up everything for them and not leave one single thing for yourself, just to make sure they're alright. I see it in the way you talk to your sisters and your mom, how passionately you love them. I mean, seriously. You're unfathomable. At lunch two weeks ago, we were walking out of the cafe and after we saw that man sitting outside who had nothing but cardboard got splashed with rainwater, you took the shirt off of your back and gave it to him for no other reason than _he needed it and you had one_. I can't say I know anyone else like that. It should be crazy, but it's just not. You're purely good."

Derek quickly grew nervous, face feeling hot under the pressure of Spencer's statement as he joked out, "Hey, now. Keep talking like that and I might think you have a little crush on me."

Spencer shrugged easily, "What if I did? You know? Like, _what if_?"

Derek raised his eyebrows, "Seriously?"

Spencer shook his head and added, "Hypothetically."

Derek leaned back on his heels casually, "Oh, well in that case, I would hypothetically ask if you wanted to get dinner and… maybe see a movie sometime or something like that."

Spencer's eyes widened and he cocked his head to the side, "Seriously?!"

Derek replied, "Hypothetically."

Spencer added slowly, large brown eyes flicking upward to catch Derek's, "And if… I were… serious?"

"Uh..." Derek took a breath and cleared his throat, "…well—"

"You hesitated." Spencer stepped away from the mirror and pressed his hand to his face which was quickly growing red, "You hesitated. Man, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make things awkward. I was just kidding. It wasn't—"

Derek folded his arms, eyebrows pulling in, "Oh, so you were just _messing with me_ all this time? Is this just a joke to you, Spence?"

Spencer turned and pointed at him, "Don't you 'Spence' me. You're the one who came up with that stupid little date idea and then hesitated when things got serious!"

Derek growled back, "Well, if you'd have let me finish—"

Spencer hissed, "Why? I already knew what you were going to say!"

"Of course, you did. You always _know_ everything, don't you? I don't even need to talk, because what I have to say is never important enough. You can read my mind, can't you, Mr. Smarty Pants?" Derek replied quickly, "Why do I even talk?"

Spencer whipped back, "Oh, so now we're name-calling? How mature. You know, I knew it. I knew that you'd be—"

Derek walked up to Spencer with confidence, "Yeah, you probably did know it, didn't you? You always do! What _don't_ you know, Spencer?! That would probably have a less-winded answer, now wouldn't it?"

Spencer argued, "Well, if you want a compiled list of the things that I _wish_ I didn't_ know_ about _you_—"

Derek rolled his eyes, "So, now you're going to turn it around on me?"

Spencer answered, squinting back at him angrily, "Yes! I am! Because you started this whole thing, I mean just a minute ago everything was fine and you played along like you actually liked me and—"

"What are you even talking about, Spencer?! I am fucking crazy about you!" Derek shouted.

It got very quiet very quickly and all of the room's air seemed to whoosh out of the vents and under the doors and zip as far away from the two men as it possibly could. Their chests were heaving and they were nose to nose. The tension was palpable and so thick it could be cut with a knife. They stared. They stared long and hard right back at each other, neither willing to make to first move, say the first thing. There was so much hanging in between them, that the wrong words would bring it crashing to the ground around them, shattering like glass.

Spencer's eyes softened into that warm, innocent, chocolatey brown that they get when he was confused and Derek waited for him to speak. By God, all he wanted to hear was Spencer's words—his acceptance, and maybe even his reciprocation. But, Derek wasn't planning on shooting for the moon with Spencer. Asking for a pat on the back from him is more sensical than asking for Spencer to love him back. He shouldn't. He couldn't. He wouldn't. Yet, at this moment in time, it was all that mattered to him. Spencer, in his stupid baggy MIT sweatshirt and scuffed jazz shoes and mussed curls, meant everything. Dammit, he meant the world. All he wanted to see were those pouty pink lips molding around "me too".

He waited and Spencer's voice rang in with a quiet and confused, "…you are?"

Derek sighed. Not the answer he was looking for, but it wasn't exactly a push away. Derek tried letting go of that weight that seemed to be crushing down on his shoulders as he responded, "Yeah. I am. You didn't… know?"

Spencer shook his head softly, curls cascading softly against his chin, "No. I… I didn't."

"Awkward," Derek chuckled nervously, leaning back in his heels again as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

Spencer reached forward and let his finger trail along the back of Derek's hand, eyeing Derek's face nervously.

"Not awkward?" Derek asked.

Spencer looked away from his partner and shook his head shyly.

Derek paused, "So, since it's not awkward, if I asked if you wanted to go out with me—seriously asked—what would you say? Like would you be weirded out, or would you say 'yes', or would you say 'no', or would..."

Suddenly, Derek was being kissed. It kind of came out of nowhere. One minute, Spencer was staring back at him expectantly with shyness in his soft eyes and a pink flush to his cheeks. The next, Spencer's body was pressed tight into his. There were soft lips gently pushing against his, and Derek's eyes closed against the feeling of Spencer falling into him for the first time. Yet, as soon as it started, it seemed to be over. Spencer's face was even more flushed as he nervously pushed his hair behind his hair and looked up at him bashfully through his eyelashes, the cute little bastard. Derek's chest swelled with emotion as he looked back at him, heart thudding hard in his chest as he watched Spencer get more and more nervous as he dragged the silence out.

"Wuh..." Derek breathed out quietly as he followed Spencer's blush down into the neck of his sweatshirt, "...wow."

Spencer let out one of those rare big smiles, "I know right?"

Derek asked hesitantly, "That was a 'yes' to the date though, right?"

"Is energy a continuous and evenly distributed source?!" Spencer blurted out.

Derek gave Spencer a strange look, "...what?"

Spencer leaned back, glancing back down at the floor as he replied with a much more contained tone, "Yeah. Yes. I will go out with you."

Derek pumped his fist in the air, "Aww, yeah! Man, that's what's up."

Spencer rolled his eyes, a smile still plastered on his face, "Whatever."

"Pick you up at six?" Derek suddenly questioned, stopping his excited movement.

Spencer shook his head, "I have professional's rehearsal for elimination night."

Derek shrugged, "Seven?"

Spencer added, "My night class is until ten."

"And, we have to stay late all day tomorrow, so that's out." Derek tried, "How's Saturday at eight, then?"

Spencer smiled, "…perfect."

"Awesome," Derek replied, looping his fingers in Spencer's sweatshirt and pulling him in close to finally kiss his lips gently, "Man, I've been wanting to do that."

Spencer blushed, placing his palms on Derek's chest and leaning down for another kiss. Derek replied with a tight lipped smile and brought his hands up to caress Spencer's face as they kissed again and again, moving close into each other until their chests pressed together and Spencer's arms wound around his neck. Time slowed down. The air in the room seemed heavy, pushing them closer, and Spencer's lips on Derek's was the only thing in the universe that mattered anymore. The only thing Derek felt, the only thing he needed was the man in his arms. And that feeling was so fucking incredulous that Derek could hardly stand it. Spencer's mouth was like soft silk, his hands were strong and sure, his body was stable and firm; yet, as they kissed innocently, Derek couldn't help but wish that he could have his hands on him forever. He doesn't think he could ever pull away. Their magnetism was too strong, the pull was too forceful. Spencer's breath was his oxygen. His warm skin was keeping him regulated. His soft sweatshirt wrapped him up in a cocoon of safety.

In this kiss, Derek could feel that he didn't always need to be the protector. He didn't have to give 110%, looking after Spencer and watching his back and keeping him from harm. Spencer had the ability to not only look after himself, but offer some of that security back to his partner. He wanted to keep Derek safe, hold him close, dry his tears, build a wall around him to keep the pain out, and be the type of man that Derek could rely on. He would take on some of the struggle, he would work with Derek to keep their relationship balanced. He would back Derek up in a fight, he would drop everything for him, he would push Derek behind him and take as many hits as were thrown. Spencer loved Derek back just as fiercely as Derek loved Spencer, and that love scared the _shit_ out of the little guy. It did. And, once again, Spencer was shaking softly in his arms.

When he had pulled Spencer into the hallway after speaking to his agent, he told Spencer that they had to publicly come out—and soon. Spencer noticed the tension and worry in Derek's shoulders and the tightness in his eyes, and he replied with, "Whenever you're ready." Derek was grateful for Spencer's grace when it comes to Derek's ever-crumbling social status, but he told Spencer point blank that he wanted to do it today. Get it over with.

Besides, Cindi had said something that resonated with him: _You and your partner have something special. People got to watch the two of you fall in love. No one can refute it. You guys have chemistry._ Since the world had been watching Derek and Spencer's story since the beginning, it was only fitting that they got a proper ending.

They had to know that the two-man team had resolved their feelings for each other in a clean-cut way that surpassed the binds of gender and sexuality. Derek and Spencer loved each other regardless of their backgrounds and their insights and missteps. They fell for each other slowly and their feelings got stronger and stronger. Now, it was time for them to leave. But, they can't. Not before the story ends. It may not be the ending everyone expects—or the one people even wanted to see—but it's Derek and Spencer's story, and they ended the competition with love for each other. Their audience deserves to know that.

Derek pulled Lila into the conversation after he had spoken with his boyfriend and asked her if she could lend them a hand, with all of her acting talents she was sure to be able to come up with some sort of believable conclusion for the two of them. She decided that she must give them much needed privacy and take the boys' attention off of herself so that it can shift onto each other. A small bitch fit and storm out would definitely do the trick. Spencer should be upset with her. Upset enough to worry Derek. And, he should come to Spencer's side, cheer him up. Their conflicting feelings should start friction to the harshness of their sexual tension. And, in the fight, their love will bubble through.

Derek was chosen to be the one to reveal his feelings first since his career is the main one on the line. He needs to seem as headstrong and tough as he is on the field, or else the stern persona he prides himself in could be tarnished in the eyes of the public. He needs to be the "man" in the public relationship just as he's the "man" on the dance floor—it all needs to mirror itself. Spencer allowed it, putting his own wants aside for Derek's advancement. No one will bat an eyelash when a male ballet dancer comes out as queer. Derek is the one who will cause the whole media cataclysm. Anti-gay homophobic men and women across the nation had cheered him on as he ran forty feet to win the Superbowl for his team, and those same people voted for him as the Player of the Year. That's a lot of angry, pissed off, betrayed-ass people to deal with. Might as well soften the blow by taking the lead instead of letting Spencer throw him against the wall and have his passionate way with him the way Derek would prefer.

Before they walked into their _staged_ rehearsal, Spencer took Derek's hand and looked into his eyes, saying calmly that he was proud of Derek for making this move. Spencer knows that this is just the tip of the iceberg for Derek's coming out endeavors. He'll have to hold press conferences and damage control later on when all of this blows up in their faces. He'll have to smile for the cameras shoved in their faces, answer all of the uncomfortable questions, listen to people call him a faggot to his face and act like none of it bothers him. So, Spencer squeezed his hand and told Derek that he'd be there for him to fall back on. Derek had kissed Spencer's forehead and ruffled his hair silently before walking into the large, hardwood, mirrored room that turned his whole fucking life around and prepared for a mass upheaval.

As of now, they were sharing their first public kiss as a couple right there on camera for the world to see. Derek could feel Spencer's heart pounding nervously against his and as they pulled away, Spencer pushed him back gently as he replied, "Me too."

* * *

Saturday was inching closer and closer, and before Derek knew it, it was Friday night. He had his suit packed up along with extra clothes, toiletries, pajamas and the like. He might have also packed lube and espresso flavored condoms. You know, just in case. Their plane and event tickets were in his wallet and sat secure in his travel backpack as he drove down the bright Wilshire Boulevard, lights twinkling against the stark inky black of the twilight sky. Derek stifled a yawn. Lila and Spencer and he had been rehearsing like mad people, and had just recently pulled a sixteen-hour binge. Lila nearly fell into the cab as they waved her off, beyond grateful for her one-day sabbatical. Derek and Spencer on the other hand will have to be awake for much longer. They had a forty minute drive to LAX. Then, a five-hour red eye flight at the Los Angeles International to Philadelphia, and from there, they're taking an Amtrak train to Washington D.C.

It was quarter to midnight when Derek pulled into the parking lot of Spencer's apartment complex, parking sloppily into a handicapped spot, not giving one fuck. It's late and he'll only be there for a hot minute. Derek slunk out of the car and wiped at his eyes, trudging tiredly up two flights of stairs to the third floor hallway. He walked lazily over to Spencer's apartment and knocked, "Hey, man. You ready to go?"

Spencer's voice called out, "You know where the key is!"

Derek sighed, "Okay," and flipped the number on Spencer's door upside down, the little compartment under the shiny metal sliding open to push out the spare key. Derek unlocked the door and placed the key back in its holder before opening the door, walking into Spencer's apartment, closing the door behind him and heading straight for Spencer's room. He could hear the sounds of distress and faintly wondered if he was going to have to shake the kid to make him hurry the hell up. They had a two o'clock flight and Derek is _not_ going to miss it. As he turned the corner out of the hallway, Derek got an eyeful of Spencer sitting on a suitcase, trying to zip it closed underneath his tiny little frame. Derek rolled his eyes and asked lazily, "Need help with that?"

Spencer growled distractedly, "No, I got it."

"Good," Derek nodded and collapsed beside Spencer on his bed, muttering into the scrunched, warm, sheets, stained with the soft smell of vanilla, "Because I don't feel like being cordial right now." Derek buried his face into the sheets, closing his eyes and smiling against the fabric. He is so ready to go to sleep right now, it's nuts.

Spencer sucked his teeth angrily and started grunting and groaning from the other side of the bed. The bed moved sharply and Spencer moaned out a swear word before he heard the sound of Spencer's hand coming down on fabric. Derek mumbled, "Are you zipping your bag, or trying to give it an orgasm?"

"The _damned_," Spencer hissed, slapping the bag, "Thing!" Spencer slapped it again, "Won't fucking close!" Suddenly, the sound of a zipper giving way and sliding home erupted into the room and Spencer let out a loud sound of relief that had Derek adjusting himself in his pants, "Uhhf_fuck_, yes! Finally!"

Derek raised his hand, "I'm too sexually frustrated for you to be saying shit like that around me, kid. Reel it in."

"Aww, you can't handle me zipping up a bag?" Spencer crawled his way across the bed and started nuzzling his face into Derek's neck, "Then, I must not be doing my duties as a good boyfriend. I mean, I haven't even been satisfying you correctly! That's just not right. Not right at all. I should probably fix that." he started kissing gently at the skin under Derek's jaw with his soft, pillowy lips, "Hmm? Want me to touch you... want me naked in these sheets, baby?"

Derek felt himself growing aroused at the feeling of Spencer's ever-wandering hands, wet lips, and hot words, "Shit, man. You might want to stop that."

"Why?" Spencer chuckled darkly against Derek's jaw, lips moving to place warm, open mouthed kisses to the juncture of Derek's neck, sucking softly on his pressure point, "You like it, I can tell."

Derek let out a soft moan, breath picking up, "I fucking love it. But, we're on a tight schedule. I literally can not do this right now, and you know it. You just like riling me up."

Spencer ran his tongue slowly up Derek's neck, "It's so much fun…" Spencer nibbled on Derek's earlobe and whispered against his skin, "You want to have fun too, huh? Want to have fun with me? I can make you feel really... _really_ good."

Derek complained, taking all the strength he could possibly muster to pull away from him and roll over on the bed, sending Spencer a woeful glance, "Man, I would take you up on that so fast, but we have to go. We have to—"

Spencer started wiggling on the bed as he shouted out gleefully, "Go to the airport and get on the plane so that we can see Mariinsky! We're going to see the ballet! We're going! We're going! We're going! It's tomorrow! Yes!"

Derek muttered to himself, "Why did I date someone so much younger than me? It's like having a toddler."

"What are you talking about? I'm super mature!" Spencer jumped up and down on the bed with his knees, pushing at Derek's chest, "We're going to see the ballet! We're going to see the ballet! We're going to D.C. and we're going to see the ballet! Yay—" Spencer stopped jumping and looked down at Derek, "The Smithsonian is in D.C., oh, my God. I totally forgot. Derek. We're going to be in town, can we go?"

Derek shook his head, "No."

Spencer pouted, "Please, Derek. Please. Can we?"

Derek mumbled, "Ugh, fine. Just stop looking at me like that."

Spencer started jumping again.

"Quit it with the hopping around, man. You're going to wear yourself out before the drive. And make sure you go to the bathroom before we leave, because we are _not_ going to be making any stops," Derek instructed before he sighed, rolling his eyes, "Yep. Exactly like having a kid."

Spencer launched himself off of the bed and pulled at Derek's arm until he got them both up. Derek was too tired to take the wheel for more than fifteen minutes straight, so Spencer decided to drive Derek's rental car over to LAX while Derek napped in the car beside him. Before he knew it, Spencer was tapping him awake. The parking lot was bright as fuck, overhead lights everywhere. And Derek had to shield his eyes with an arm over his face as the light seared into his sleep-blown pupils. He groaned as Spencer pulled the keys out of the ignition and placed them in Derek's hand. Spencer leaned forward and tapped Derek's shoulder again, "Wake up. Our flight's in fifteen minutes."

Derek complained, "I can't just jump awake all quick like you can. I need a couple seconds, alright? I'm an old coot."

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to Derek's lips, "You're _my_ old coot. Now, come on before we miss our flight."

Derek chuckled softly, "Damn, you're convincing."

The two made their way out of the car, wheeling their luggage behind them through the cool night air as they headed to the big, sliding glass doors ahead of them. They checked their tickets and bags, went through the ever-glorious American flight security, placed their bags on the conveyor belt, and jogged up to the correct terminal just moments before it closed off. Derek and Spencer walked on over to their seats, Derek tiredly and Spencer excitedly. Claiming the window seat, Spencer bounced his way into his seat and tugged Derek by the hand down beside him. As Derek sat and buckled his seat belt, he reached over and took Spencer's hand. Spencer glanced back up at him with a soft smile and turned away from the window to rest his head on Derek's shoulder. Derek buried his face into Spencer's soft brown curls before kissing them and laying his head on top of Spencer's so that the dancer's fuzzy haired head lay safely protected.

A voice came over the intercom, instructing the many passengers of safety procedures and warning them against accidents. Derek looped his fingers in through Spencer's and felt his partner squeeze back as they held hands on Spencer's lap. The plane took off and Derek and Spencer sat quietly, enjoying the silence as the plane lifted off into the air. It was to be a five and a half hour flight, so they'd be there for a while. There wasn't much to look at and Spencer refused to bring a book. He told Derek that he would have to bring twenty of them if he were to truly keep himself occupied and both airports would probably be upset with him if he did. Besides, they wouldn't all fit in his carry-on. What's the point of taking one when books are like Pringles to the poor kid. He'd lose his damned mind if he could only take three.

Spencer quickly had fallen asleep after he hit that brick wall of a caffeine crash. His chest rose and fell as he burrowed into Derek's shoulder, pink lips poking out and eyebrows drawing in. His skin grew feverish as it sometimes did when he slept. Spencer told Derek that, at times, he overheats in his sleep because he's underweight and it's nothing to be worried about.

Several flight attendants passed them, one in particular had bright red hair and a pleasant smile that Derek noticed. She had walked by three times, each time sparing the two men a brief glance before stopping. She paused at Derek's seat and placed her hand on the seat in front of him before pursing her red lips and speaking with excitement, "Are you Team Wild Card?"

Derek nodded, whispering, "Yeah, I am. One half of it anyway. The other half is knocked out cold."

Spencer mumbled wordlessly into Derek's shoulder.

The red headed flight attendant grinned, "Lucky him."

Derek chuckled and glanced down at him, "I know right? What is it, 2:00 am?"

"2:17, actually," she replied with a smile, shifting back on her dark green kitten heels to say, "Anyway, I just wanted to get up the courage to come over here and tell you guys that I'm really glad that you two do what you do. My partner and I have been having trouble in our ballroom class. The instructors keep forcing us to pair up with other men. We went to our class last week and the instructor let us dance with each other and we had so much fun. Even though it's just something small for us, it's really great what you guys are doing. You're helping change people's minds—tugging them out of the dark ages, you know? You're making a huge difference in a lot of people's lives. It's incredible."

"Man, do I wish he was awake to hear that," Derek replied with a smile, "Thanks sweetheart. That was very nice of you to say."

She laughed, "Of course. Where are y'all headed?"

Derek answered, "D.C. to see a ballet that Spence has got himself all crazy about. We're just going to spend the day up there and see as much of the sights as we can in a few hours."

The flight attendant asked pleasantly, "...like a date?"

Derek gestured to Spencer and his linked hands, "Exactly like a date. He's my boo."

She started grinned, "Finally."

Derek let out a sudden laugh and Spencer sleepily grumbled something that sounded like a vague cross between "shut up" and "I'll kill you with my bare hands and bathe in your blood". The flight attendant stayed for a small spell and they had a wonderful chat until she was called away b a coworker and before he knew it, Derek drifted off to a dreamless sleep with Spencer by his side.

It was nice to hear such things from the busy woman. Derek knew in theory of the splashes he and Spencer were making in the grand scheme of dance. Two men were ballroom dancing together on national television on the regular for the past seven weeks. People were sure to take notice. Spencer's small tap class had lost eleven kids, but had gained six more. Derek's Twitter has been going insane with an upsweep of follows and positive tweets. Even the sports television networks have cooled down on Derek as of recently. But, to actually see and speak with one of the people that he had touched through dance made all of the shit he had gone through physically and mentally over the past couple of months... totally and completely worth it.

Her face had lit up when they spoke with each other, noting the different dances she had watched and gushing over their infamous Argentine Tango, and as Derek watched her, he felt a sense of pride bubbling up in his chest that wasn't there before. Spencer and he had made a difference in this young woman's life. It was small, yes, but it was also thrilling. She and her same-sex partner could now learn how to dance professionally. Her instructor had stopped calling each side the "man" and the "woman" and had started to use the phrases the "leader" and the "follower", and who knows how many other instructors were doing the same thing. Spencer and Derek had started a small revolution in the dance community, and people were beginning to take notice.

He found himself shaken awake by his partner as Spencer tried to reach over his legs. Spencer pushed at him, whispering harshly, "Coffee trolley, coffee trolley! Quick! Get the woman before she walks away!"

Derek lazily raised his hand as the trolley came by their isle, "Miss."

The flight attendant—a different one this time—pushed the trolley to a stop, the wheels omitting a well oiled scrunch against the carpet. Spencer ran his hand through the top of his hair sleepily and leaned onto Derek's lap as he looked up at the sweet faced blonde woman, "Do you have cream and sugar?" When the woman nodded in response to his question, Spencer grinned out, "I'll take the biggest cup you have."

Derek grumbled under his breath as he closed his eyes, "Junkie."

"Ex-junkie," Spencer replied politely as he watched the woman pour piping hot black coffee into a large paper cup, smoke billowing out along the top of it, "Oh, my goodness. That looks great. What time is it?" Spencer elbowed Derek gently, "Babe, what time is it?"

Derek growled and peeked at his watch from under his sleeve, "6:43 in the morning."

Spencer asked reached over Derek again for the cup and asked the woman, "Could you hand me four sugars and three little things of half-and-half?" Derek closed his eyes again and leaned back against the seat, trying patiently to get back into a snooze before the plane landed. The woman must have handed Spencer what he had wanted because he replied with a bright, "Thank you. You're a goddess." Derek started to drift, hearing the distant chatter roll through in through the surrounding people in the plane. There was a ding and the pilot started to speak again, telling everyone about the oncoming landing in fifteen minutes and reminding passengers to remain seated with their belts in place. Ugh, great. They're landing in fifteen minutes, which means that he'll have to get up soon. Then, he'll have to hail a cab downtown to the Amtrak station and get there before 8:00 so that they can have breakfast at one of the cafes inside before they have to get on the train for another two hours. Traveling is always so stressful, especially when relying on public transportation, but Derek partly enjoys it. The thrumming of machines underneath him, the knowledge that every single person in the mode is going somewhere different, the incredible feeling that even though they all have separate lives and duties and stories that in this one little train car or plane or cab, their stories all intersect.

Derek turned in his seat and glanced up at his boyfriend from where he lay his head against the seat and watched as Spencer carefully inspected the side of his cup. Spencer's lips moved as he read something, eyes whipping down the paper cup in intrigue and eyebrows pulling in as he deciphered it. He suddenly gave Derek a worried and innocent look, "I think she accidentally gave me a cup with her lottery guesses on it. We should call her back and return it."

"Seriously? Let me see," Derek replied with a grin, peeking over at the cup as Spencer turned it to show him and sighing. He rolled his eyes at Spencer, "Man, that's her number."

Spencer nodded seriously, "I know. They're her numbers. We should give them back to her so she doesn't forget them."

Derek started to chuckle, "You are the dumbest man I have ever met in my entire life."

* * *

When Derek and Spencer finally made it to their hotel room in Washington D.C., they tossed their bags aside and collapsed on the big bed beside each other. They didn't spare a glance at the high ceiling, white walls, silver trims, expensive birch wood furniture, soft white carpet, sheer tapestries, and delicate silver lamps. Spencer pawed at Derek to set his phone to wake them up at 4:00pm before they lazily shrugged out of their clothes and found their way under the heavy, plush covers. They turned out the lights and Derek lay back, smirking as Spencer curled in on him and lay his head on Derek's bare chest. Derek curled an arm around Spencer's thin body, all warm and gentle in nothing but an unbuttoned old flannel and a pair of boxers. He kissed Spencer's forehead and felt him smile against his heart, pressing an answering kiss to his skin.

Derek wanted to end every day like this. Tired as fuck, holding Spencer to his chest, and feeling like he had seriously accomplished something and was about to do more. He briefly wondered what was on the to-do list after the competition ends, and Derek can honestly say that he thought it would have come to him by now. He does have to go back to Chicago though. He's gotta help his mom out at home, renew his lease, and go to his sister's wedding. Then, what? Derek sighed. He could actually pen down that book that he's been meaning to write. Maybe he could invest in another charity, become a spokesperson for that. That would take a bunch of time, make him feel needed, and have him look like a saint in the process—which couldn't hurt with a sex tape in the air. He could travel a bit. Do a little soul searching. Or, he could start teaching somewhere. He does have his master's degree in Sports Medicine and Criminal Justice. It's not like he can't take a certification test, or go back to school for a couple of years so that he could teach Chemistry. Derek stifled a groan. Yeah, unlike Spencer, he wouldn't enjoy that as much as one would think. The only perk would be, the soft purr of Spencer's voice panting "Mr. Morgan" and "Professor" in his ear during intimate moments. God, that would be fucking hot. But, alas, teaching isn't really his fallback. Hell, it wasn't even the fallback for his fallback. Derek planned to be a cop if the whole football thing didn't work out. Since it did, he's kind of floundering now that he's done. No one would ever respect him in the field; not after starring in a dance competition and coming out with a male partner.

Fuck.

It was so easy to sleep on the train. Now that he's finally in bed, his mind won't shut up. Spencer cracked his back and turned around, leaning against Derek's shoulder with a small grunt. He had started to snore a few minutes ago, and it was kind of cute how soft his noises were. He was a grown man, he shouldn't be omitting such sniffles and whimpers. Derek petted his hands down Spencer's hair and waited for sleep to come. It would. It had to. Derek just had to stop worrying himself sick for about five minutes and maybe then, something would come of it.

He closed his eyes. What if he never gets to sleep? What if he stays awake all day and looks tired as hell on the red carpet when they he walks through with the bright-eyed and bushy tailed partner of his. What if—

* * *

A phone started beeping against his ear and Derek startled awake, hearing Spencer's gruff groan of complaint at his side. Derek reached over and picked his phone out of the sheets, tapping at it until the incessant racket quieted to a sudden stop. His boyfriend ran his hand over his face and sat up, mussed curls sticking up all over the place as he blinked slowly, "Crap. How long were we out?"

Derek buried his face back into the pillow, "It's four o'clock."

Spencer smiled softly and lay down beside Derek, "And guess what's at 9:30?"

Derek mumbled into the pillow, "The time you give me some peace and quiet?"

Spencer rolled over onto Derek's side and leaned his head against Derek's shoulder blades, ignoring his previous statement as he continued, "The greatest Russian ballet troupe of all time will be performing three rows in front of us. Oh, my God. I could cry."

"Mmm hmm. Yeah. That's nice." Derek replied tiredly before feeling the weight of Spencer lift off of him. It was colder now in that hotel bed. He heard the sound of Spencer's graceful footsteps making their way the the side wall. Derek turned and glanced over at him from where he lay, face first in a pile of pillows and watched as Spencer started to stretch his calves and flex his arches. Spencer regarded him with a comfortable smile as he leaned forward and bent at the waist, fingers trailing lightly against the floor. He rose up to his full height and arched his feet in demi, lifting his outside arm high in perfect for parallel to his chest. Then, he did it all again thrice, turning and doing it four more times on the other side. After a few minutes, Spencer reached his hand out and leaned against the wall, preforming an arabesque in perfect form in his worn unbuttoned red flannel and black boxers, pointed toes encased in socks, one blue and one striped red and green.

Derek winked from the bed, "I was going to say something really inappropriate, but I feel like that would ruin the mojo you've got going on over there."

Spencer chuckled, pulling his shirt from his arms and tossing it at Derek's face before heading over to his suitcase, "It wouldn't have."

Derek pushed the shirt out of his face and watched as Spencer bent down in front of him, rifling around in his case before be pulled out a small bag of toiletries that looked kind of like a ladies' make-up bag. He raised an eyebrow as Spencer made his way into the bathroom and asked, "Yo, is that a purse?"

"No. It's a bag of toiletries." Spencer replied easily from the bathroom sink, placing the bag down and turning on the sink, "It just happens to have purse-like tendencies."

Derek replied, "...oh. I wouldn't judge if you carried one, I mean—"

Spencer glanced at him from the sink, "I'm a bailarin, not a drag queen. My being a dancer doesn't in any way mean that I like dressing like a woman."

Derek raised his palms, "I didn't mean that—"

Spencer replied distractedly as he wet his face, "But, I do have lipstick in my bedroom because I'm totally kinky like that on a personal level. I won't invite it into our encounters if it makes you uncomfortable though."

That shut Derek up fairly quickly. He nodded once, "A-are you kidding me. That's hot as hell. Please do."

"Really? I didn't expect that response at all," Spencer answered easily, pulling out a razor and a tube of shaving cream. Derek found himself smiling as he pulled the covers off of him. He made his way over to the bathroom in his sweatpants. Derek leaned down on the way, unzipping his suitcase and pulling his small leather bag out. He strode into the bathroom, pushing the door aside to wrap his arms around Spencer kiss at his cheek, "You should have. Besides, even if it did give me the creeps, nothing gets me off more than seeing my partner experiencing immense pleasure."

Spencer grabbed his toothbrush out of his not-purse and ran it under the water, sitting on the counter and squeezing some toothpaste on the brush before popping it into his mouth, "Well, then. Looks like we have that in common. And, since we're talking about kinks, I have to ask, how do you feel about roleplay?"

"Freaks me out a little," Derek replied, digging his toothbrush out of his toiletries bag before taking Spencer's toothpaste and loading it on his brush, "But, I don't mind doing it to entertain a lover."

Spencer shook his head as he brushed at his teeth, "Seriously? I can't stand it."

Derek placed the brush in his mouth, scrubbing about a little bit, "S&M?"

Spencer started to laugh, "I hate to take your previous answer, but... it freaks me out a little even though I've done it before to make my partner feel good."

Derek worked at his molars and spit his toothpaste into the sink, "Whoa, really? It straight up makes me want to throw up. I don't understand how someone can get hot off of beating someone up and treating them like shit, and taking it like a bitch can't be fun either."

Spencer replied with a wry smile, "If you've got the right person doing it, it can be pretty enjoyable."

Derek asked, "How so?"

Spencer shrugged, "Well, I abhor most of it, but the little stuff the doms do sometimes is really hot. I like the physical teasing, the confinements, giving up control. I also enjoy the spanking. A lot. Makes me feel like a naughty boy."

Derek leaned back laughed, pushing at Spencer's thin bare chest, "Oh, okay. So, you've got a little freak streak. I like it."

"I guess I do," Spencer chuckled and brushed at the side of his mouth before spitting into the sink, "What about you? What's the freakiest thing you've ever done in bed?"

Derek thought back a little while, brushing at his back teeth before raising his eyebrows, "One time, I let a girl tie my hands up, blindfold me, and peg me with a strap on. It was weird and she was really bad at it, but it kind of turned me on a little bit when I pretended it was Michael Ealy."

Spencer picked up a little Dixie cup off the edge of the sink and filled it with water, washing out his mouth and glancing at Derek with a smirk, "That's not the kinkiest thing I've ever heard, but it's still kinda weird."

"What about you, Vanilla Boy? What's the worst thing you let some poor bastard do to you?" Derek replied, leaning into the sink to rinse his mouth with his hand cupped in the water..

Spencer said thoughtfully, "Well, I was in a no strings thing with this one French exchange student in grad school named Jebidiah—"

Derek added from the sink, "This story already sounds weird."

Spencer pushed Derek's shoulder, "He was really nice, okay? He just had a very unfortunate name. Anyway, we'd do stuff with knives, rosaries, candle wax, fruit, ice cubes, gunpowder, a whole bunch of weird crap, actually. He even taught me how to have multiple orgasms. It took a while, but once I got the hang of it, it was so awesome."

Derek's head popped up from the sink as he stared into Spencer's eyes with confusion, "Wait... you mean like _actual_ multiple orgasms? I thought guys couldn't get those."

"We can. It just takes a lot of practice," Spencer replied, "What most men don't understand is that sexual climax and ejaculation are two different experiences. They just usually happen to occur at the same time," Spencer shrugged. He picked up his can of shaving cream up from off the edge of the sink and sprayed the froth absently into his hand, "You have to train yourself to concentrate enough to hold off, so that when you achieve orgasm, you don't ejaculate. If you can't keep your crap together when you're on the edge, it's not for you."

Derek paused, "...what's it like?"

"Holy fuck. Euphoria. Just... pure pleasure. Over and over and over and over again," Spencer sighed in remembrance, closing his eyes and leaning back against the mirror.

Derek huffed, "Huh, you've gotta show me that one day."

"Sure," Spencer smiled to himself and turned his head to the mirror, wiping the whipped shaving cream all over the bottom half of his face. Derek pulled out his own can of shaving cream and chuckled at Spencer. He looked back over at Derek with shaving cream all over his face, cocking his head like a cute little puppy with a fluffy white beard, "What?"

Derek leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Spencer's lips, getting some sweet smelling shaving cream on his face in the process. Spencer laughed, "You've got some stuff on your face." Derek ran his finger through the shaving cream stuck to his face and wiped it on the tip of Spencer's nose, smiling as Spencer laughed again and leaning it to kiss him again. They were getting the sticky frothy stuff all over the place, but they couldn't seem to help it. Spencer ran his hand over his face and smeared it all over Derek's stubbly cheek as they kissed, breaking their passionate moment in half.

Spencer pushed Derek off of him and spoke heatlessly, gathering more cream into his hands, "Great. Now I have to redo it. Thanks."

They shaved together quietly. Derek shaving with a handheld triple blade and Spencer flicking out a straight razor. The whole ordeal took a little bit longer than it usually would, the domesticity of it all causing the two men to feel a little bit more whimsical. Spencer finished first, wiping off his face with a warm damp towel and rubbing some aftershave onto his face before hopping off of the sink and standing behind Derek to wrap his arms around his boyfriend's middle. He kissed Derek's shoulder and watched as he finished up through the mirror, "After lunch, my friend Alex is coming over to help me get ready. That okay with you?"

Derek lifted his head, shaving carefully underneath his chin, "Yeah, sure. As long as he's not hotter than me. Then, we'd have to go into battle to ensure my position as the alpha."

Spencer kissed Derek's shoulder, "Well, _she's_ very nice and very married, so I think we're all clear on the western front."

Derek replied distractedly as he ran the blade down his neck, "Damn. I brought my broadsword and scythe. Now, what am I going to do with them?"

"Nothing," Spencer rolled his eyes at Derek's reflection, "She's a tenured Linguistics professor at Georgetown. We met at this Latin seminar eons ago and the rest is history. Anyway, she said on the phone that she could turn me into a pretty princess in under two hours, so I told her that she could work her magic if she wanted it. God knows, I need it."

Derek rinsed off his razor in the sink and turned to Spencer, "But, you're already a pretty princess, baby."

Spencer sighed, pushing at Derek's arm, "Yeah, but I want to be a _prettier_ princess. So, I'm going to need a little bippity boppity boo before the ball. You, on the other hand, take five minutes to get ready, so you wouldn't understand."

Derek reached over and grabbed a towel, running it under the warm current before wiping his face off with it. He kissed Spencer's forehead, "Spence, you're over-thinking it. It's just a red carpet."

"Exactly," Spencer replied as he leaned against the bathroom sink, "It's a red carpet. You may dig the scruffy homeless man style, but it's not exactly the most elegant thing in the world. There will be notables and cabinet members and countesses and people of power there—we took ambassadors' seats for goodness sake. I need to look... classy."

Derek crowded Spencer's space and took his face in his hands, pushing Spencer's cheeks in before kissing them both gently. He looked Spencer over and there he stood. His boyfriend was slight of figure; pale with large eyes, framed with long lashes, a blemishless face, and wild brown jaw-legnth curls that never seemed to stay still. The dude had elegance coming out of his ass. Derek spoke, "You're classy as fuck, I don't see the problem."

Spencer grumbled, "For four years, I've had people slather me in make up and pull my hair and pluck my eyebrows until I'm acutely presentable. I know what I'm supposed to look like, and this isn't it."

"How do you know if you'll look good enough after she's done? Because she said so, of because you said so?" Derek replied.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, "Don't you get all wise on me."

Derek grinned, stepping out of the bathroom, "Too late."

* * *

They had time to go out for a little bit before it was time for Alex to come over and turn Spencer into a Ken doll, so the two decided to go all tourist and visit the Smithsonian. Spencer hadn't been there before, so he was pretty much as excited as all of the kids they'd toured with. He dragged Derek to the Birth of Biotech exhibit and his eyes grew wide with excitement as he watched the lights zip by. As they left, he gave out smiles as Derek bought them hot chocolate to sip in the cool bite of winter air. They made their way down the big flights of stairs and were greeted by a face full of paparazzi as soon as they turned the corner where they had called a cab to meet them.

Cameras were shoved in their faces at top speed as a crowd of at least fifteen different reporters rushed up to them, following them down the street. Bulbs flashed, and red recording buttons shone bright among the grubbers as they yelled out the names of their publications, shouting question after question about the nature of their trip and the reason they were holding hands. The men didn't really have answers for them. Spencer didn't want to assume anything when it came to Derek's coming out, but before Derek could make up his mind, he stopped Spencer in his tracks and stared out into the many cameras. Derek wrapped his arm around Spencer's shoulder, feeling his lover lean into him as he spoke out, "My friend and I are just trying to have a nice day out. Do you guys mind letting us through to our cab? It would be a great help."

The swarm of reporters all grew silent for a moment, eyes staring blankly before one of them called out, "The Virginia Gazette! When you say _friend_, do you admit that the two of you are in a close relationship?"

Derek nudged at Spencer, and nearly laughed as Spencer gave back a worried look. Kid didn't know what to say. He's not approached as often as Derek and probably hasn't been hounded by photographers like this before. Derek squeezed his shoulder, whispering, "It's alright. Go ahead."

Spencer's brown eyes flicked up into the closest camera and he replied, "Well... I guess so."

Everybody suddenly lost their shit. The bulbs flashed quicker and quicker, cameras coming even closer. Derek and Spencer nearly had to shield their eyes as they attacked, firing question after question before Derek spoke up, pulling Spencer alongside him and toward the cab. Spencer opened the door and Derek tugged him aside to stand beside his boyfriend, "We'll be taking questions at a later venue, but for now, we've got a date to get to." At that, Derek and Spencer piled themselves in the car, closing the door and ordering the cab driver toward the hotel before breathing out a sigh of relief.

"Shit. Did I say the wrong thing?" Spencer looked over at Derek with a harried look in his eyes as he fidgeted in his little old man outfit.

Derek laughed, "No, man, you did great."

Spencer fretted, "Ugh, I disagree. Wow. I never knew that's what paparazzi looked like. Those guys were damn near bloodthirsty."

Derek leaned back in his seat comfortably, sighing and pulling off his dark, metal rimmed sunglasses, "Are you kidding me, that's cute. I couldn't physically leave my house two weeks after the Superbowl. Trust me. It gets much worse."

Spencer worried from across the cab, "Goodness. Worse? Oh, my. That was just awful. How do you deal with that?"

Derek shrugged, "I just do. It's the price of our employment, you know? Us? You and me? We're not people. We're a hot story to them; money, a promotion, praise from a shitty boss. They thrive off of our lives and our choices, because for some strange reason, people who follow us want to know about it. Me coming out just then will be the tip of the iceberg. Expect a lot of crazy coming this way, kid. This is just the beginning."

Spencer sighed and tapped his forehead against the glass of the cab window, "Are you sure I'm worth all of this?"

Derek pulled Spencer in, wrapping his arm around Spencer's shoulders until his boyfriend lay his head gently on his shoulder, "You're worth more."

"I love you," Spencer breathed into Derek's shirt, "I just wish we could live in a world where no one would make the way I feel about you to be some big scandal."

"I feel the same exact way," Derek replied, kissing Spencer's temple, "But, we can't worry about that now. We've got a big date tonight. All we've got to worry about is making it down that red carpet in three hours without tripping and busting out asses in front of the Duke of Edinburgh like the commoners we are."

* * *

**A/N: The date will be featured in the next chapter (this time I'm for real). I overestimated the amount of work I could edit between my uncle's funeral and my 8:00am Monday class. I overestimated big time lol. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it so far.**

**Love,**

**Blue**


	8. Happy Tears

**A/N: I'm not even out of excuses though, I swear.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

* * *

Raising the Barre 2: The Tipping Pointe

CHAPTER EIGHT: Happy Tears

It's been twenty minutes since Spencer pushed Derek out of the hotel room and told him that he was forbidden from coming back upstairs for the next half hour**—**wait, he had paused as Alex corrected him over the phone**—**hour and half. At the time, it was 7:15. Add that away and carry a one… that leaves them at 9:00pm, giving them twenty minutes to get to the Kennedy Theater. While the hotel isn't very far from the venue, having to race over in a cab in D.C. "night traffic" will definitely not be the most fun thing in the world. To be honest it would probably be hell.

Derek sulked and grabbed his computer bag and suit in his dry cleaner's bag, making his way down the steps to the lobby. Now that he's suddenly got all of this free time, maybe he should work on his social media platform. He could call his sister, catch up on Twitter, hit up the community service center he spoke for and ask if they haven't shunned him yet. You know? Stuff.

After seemingly forever, Derek's watch beeped on his wrist indicating that it was 8:55. Finally. It was time to get dressed and meet Spencer upstairs. He packed his stuff away in a backpack and shuffled over to the lobby bathroom, carrying his suit in the dry cleaner's carrier he picked up two days ago. Closing the door to the handicapped stall, Derek tugged his sweater over his head and unzipped the carrier, pulling out the high thread count formal oxford. He stared at it, taking a deep breath. He remembered when he and his team mates would have to wear stuff like this whenever they traveled together. But, this is a newer suit. He was going to wear it to his Desiree's wedding. But… then… you know, he kind of slept with the groom, so that ended before it even started. Derek chuckled to himself. He remembers Bruce. He remembers him well. Last he's heard, he just got a promotion at his law firm. What with him still being closeted as fuck, he was fairly good at separating work and pleasure. Until Derek came home to oversee the seating lists for the wedding plans. In that case, Bruce was quite poor at it. Thank goodness, he was. His sister deserves better than a guy who lusts after dick.

The pants zipped up without much give, thank God. Sometimes dry cleaners can't be too trustworthy. And as Derek buttoned up the top two buttons of his suit, leaving the last one undone as was formally correct, Derek folded up the carrier and grabbed his backpack. He spared a sideways glance at the mirror and shrugged. He was wearing a suit. That was enough, right? Yeah. Must suck for women, what with the hair and make up and dresses and shoes and**—**shit. Derek knew he must have forgotten something. He was still in his high tops. He needed to get those shiny, leather dress shoes out of his suitcase still.

Derek decided to take the elevator, making sure to be extra careful of the suit. One speck of dust and he's down for the count. He pressed the fourth button above "L" and watched as the doors closed, waiting patiently as the giant mirrored box did the walking for him. When the doors opened up again, he was on their floor. Derek strode down the hallway, counting off. 415, 417, 419, 421. Derek stopped in front of it and knocked.

"He's here, he's here!" a feminine voice hushed out, "Hurry up. Don't worry about it. You look fine."

Derek complained, reading off his watch, "It's almost 9:00, kid. We've got to leave like… five minutes ago."

The hotel door suddenly cracked to halfway open and Derek got a face full of soft brown curls, kind brown eyes, and a motherly heart shaped face. The woman on the other side of the door stood between Derek and his view into the room. Derek almost chuckled at the sight of her. She looks like she'd be more Spencer's aunt than his friend. The woman extended a soft looking hand, tipped with a natural colored manicure with a slight tint of red. Derek inspected it quietly. Low square tips; fresh, simple, classy. He likes her. Derek took her hand, "Derek Morgan."

"Ah, yes. _The boyfriend_," the woman replied with an open smile as she shook his hand before tugging him close and whispering into his ear, "I'm a sharp shooter. I can land a bullet right between your eyes from five miles away. Hurt him and my fingers will get itchy, understand?"

Derek's eyes widened and he gulped, "Y-yes. I understand."

She leaned back and let go of his hand, "Good. That boy is like a nephew to me. I'd hate to see him trifled with."

Derek shifted back on his heels, wiping his palm on his jacket, "Yes. Got it. I'm not a trifler. Trifling is what I do not do. This is a… uh, no trifle zone."

"Perfect," she grinned, leaning back on the door and opening it to him, "Dr. Alex Blake, by the way."

Derek slipped past her into the room, straightening his jacket with his least sweaty hand and watching as Dr. Alex Blake shut the door behind her, "Another doctor? Is it me, or are all of Spencer's friends unnecessarily brilliant?"

Dr. Alex Blake replied easily, "Yep."

Derek muttered, "That's intimidating."

Dr. Alex Blake leaned her back against the door, raising her eyebrow at him in her sensible pantsuit and magenta button up, "From what I hear, you double majored and received a master's degree in under five years, graduating at the top five percentile of your class before you were drafted into the NFL. When it comes to Spencer's friends, intimidation will be the least of your problems. Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it," Derek let out a huff of breath, "Speaking of the guy, where is he? We need to leave very soon. "

Dr. Alex Blake answered with a sigh, "He won't come out of the bathroom. He's pouting in there right now, I guarantee it."

Spencer called out from the other side of the bathroom door, "I'm not _pouting_!"

Dr. Alex Blake spoke, "Then, come out."

Spencer grew quiet, "No, thank you."

Derek sucked his teeth and unfolded his arms, striding over to the bathroom door in his suit and old sneakers, "Come on, Pretty Boy. What's the problem here?"

"...I look like an idiot," Spencer mumbled under his breath.

Dr. Alex Blake spoke up harshly from where she leant against the door, "Hey, now. I worked hard on you. You should be saying 'thank you'."

Spencer whipped back, "_Thank you_ for making me look like an idiot."

Dr. Alex Blake started to mutter angrily.

Derek rolled his eyes, "Spencer, you don't look like an 'idiot', okay? I don't care what you've got on. I mean, you looked awesome this morning and you were barely wearing anything at all."

Spencer whispered, "Derek…"

Derek tapped on the door, "Look. What I'm trying to say is, you're a beautiful little snowflake who looks really, really, ridiculously cute in everything. You're adorable, alright? You are. And it's not your fault. That's just the way it is."

Spencer mumbled quietly, "Thanks, babe."

"Of course…" Derek's voice grew soft as he whispered into the door, "You're my Boo-Boo Bear."

Spencer let out a soft giggle and Derek could almost hear Spencer blushing through the bathroom door, "Derek... what did I say about you calling me that around people?"

"Not to." Derek let out a stern gruff and cleared his throat, straightening up his posture and puffing his chest out a bit, "Ahem! Now that I feel sufficiently emasculated, open the door, kid. Before I bust it in, sling you over my shoulder, and carry you to this ballet kicking and screaming."

Spencer started to chuckle from the other side of the door, "You probably would bust the door open anyway, wouldn't you?"

Derek replied, "Depends whether or not you get turned on by it."

Spencer let out a quiet, "Oh, you have no idea."

Dr. Alex Blake spoke up, "Could you guys _not_?"

Spencer apologized from the bathroom, "Sorry."

Dr. Alex sighed, "S'fine."

Derek pressed his forehead against the door and added, "We're going to be late. Come on out, kid. I'm 1000% sure you'll be the belle of the ball."

Spencer paused, "…okay. Fine. Just… don't laugh at me. I've had enough quarterbacks doing that in high school, I really don't need to add another."

Derek leaned back, standing up straight as he waved his hands around, "You won't have to."

"You'd better make good on that," Spencer replied before slowly cracking the door open, and peeking out at Derek. The door steadily opened and the fluorescent lights from the bathroom shone out from behind him, circling his slender form. Spencer stood before the room from between the door awkwardly. His shoulders were hunched in on themselves and his hands were stuffed in his pockets as he stared back at the two with a wince to his scrunched face.

He let his eyes trail down his shy boyfriend's body and…

Wow.

Derek was actually rendered speechless. And, I'm going to let you know that this is quite the feat, because Derek is _never_ at a loss for words, okay?

But, there Spencer stood in a dark grey tailored suit looking like whoa. His lithe form was sheathed in a hella expensive looking shawl lapel jacket that cinched in perfectly to extenuate the cut of his waist and the length of his torso. Embroidered on the sides and the bottom, it was pieced together with a button just above the hips. Underneath it, he wore a plain starched white dress shirt and a thin 50's inspired black silk tie, and a stylish silk scarf that was slung neatly around his shoulders, peeking out under each side of his jacket. His fitted pants were tight enough to be sexy, but not tight enough to seep cheap and left just enough to the imagination to make Derek want to rip them right off of his body.

Derek blinked. Yep. Still speechless.

Spencer lifted his arm to scratch behind his neck as he spoke, "I know… it-it's too much, right? I should change. I really should. Ugh, what was I thinking?"

Derek followed Spencer's hands up to meet his face and his eyes widened; he took a step back in shock.

Holy shit.

Where did his hair go?

It's gone. Well… not _all_ gone, but a hell of a lot of it is missing. Derek had grown used to seeing Spencer's face framed in long, messy, youthful locks. And now, it's cut. Very short. He still had curls, but they were stunted and close to his head in a more sophisticated, grown up style. Now that his hair was out of his face, Derek could see the definition in his high cheekbones, strong jaw, and thin nose. His close cut bangs showed off his forehead and since they ended an inch or so below his hairline, it highlighted his masculine brows and made his eyes look less large and innocent. Spencer looked completely different. But, it was good different. Like… _holy shit amazing_ different.

Derek gaped, searching for words and when they finally came, they were, "…dude."

Spencer raised a perfect eyebrow, "Huh?"

Derek stammered, "Look at you. You're… ah… w-wow. I mean your suit is just… and your _hair_. Your hair is… wow. You look… wow."

Spencer slowly let out a smile, shyly reaching up to push hair behind his ears that was no longer there to move, "Really? You're serious? I thought you'd hate it."

Derek blanched, "H-hate it? How? You're like… fff-w-whhuh…"

"Sorry, what was that?" Spencer asked confusedly, leaning in as if he truly didn't understand.

Derek spoke out shakily, "You look like the Italian Vogue Model version of my boyfriend. Why would I hate that?"

Spencer started worriedly, "Because I don't look like… you know. The…"

Derek finished, "The man I fell in love with?"

"Well, yeah," Spencer glanced back up at Derek with concern, hands falling in front of them to knot and tangle with his fingers nervously.

Derek started to laugh and strode over to the Malibu Ken version of his dance instructor cum boyfriend and wrapped his arms around his thin form, smiling to himself as he felt those sturdy arms wind around him and the press of his blushing nose buried in his shoulder as he burrowed in the way he always does into hugs, "I don't care if you dyed your skin purple and shaved your head, you'll always be the man I fell in love with. You're my Spencer. No matter what you look like."

Spencer mumbled into his shoulder, "…really?"

Derek continued, "And if you want to run off and get a make over and come back looking extra hot, I'm not going to complain one bit."

Spencer started to laugh, "Extra hot?"

"Man, when I left, you were a sleek, sexy Chevy Corvette," Derek chuckled, "And when I walked back in here, you morphed into a fucking Ferrari on me. I mean, boyfriend uses Blaze Kick. Super effective. Whoa. I'm getting whip lash."

Spencer pushed at Derek's shoulder, "You are so full of it."

Derek shrugged, "Except for when I'm not."

Spencer leaned back and grinned, "…thanks... I feel a lot better about this that you're here."

"Then, my main goal of the day has been accomplished," Derek replied, staring into Spencer's eyes and running his hand down his cheek. Spencer's eyes closed under his touch and he leaned in for a soft kiss before breathing out against Derek's lips, "I love you."

Derek whispered back, "I love you too, Pretty Boy."

Spencer rubbed his nose against Derek's, "I love you more, babe."

Derek kissed Spencer's lips gently, "Nuh, uh. I love you more, Boo-Boo Bear."

"No, I love you more, honey bunches," Spencer chuckled, wrapping his arms around Derek's neck and tugging him into a long, sweet kiss, "I love you so much more."

Derek bumped his forehead against Spencer's and tapped his finger against Spencer's cheek, "Oh, yeah, baby?"

Spencer nodded and shuffled closer to Derek, "Yeah, sweetie pie."

A throat was cleared from the edge of the room and Derek turned in Spencer's arms to watch as Dr. Alex Blake folded her arms impatiently from the door, where she had stood for the past few minutes, "Not that you two aren't disgustingly adorable. But," she held out her phone, "Your cab is downstairs, so you two had better scoot before you're late to the show."

Spencer rested his head on Derek's shoulder and gazed back at his friend with a fond smile on his face, "Alex, thank you. Really."

"I know, I know. I'm the best," she replied, pulling the strap of her purse up her shoulder before opening the door for them, "Now, you'd better be back before midnight. If not, you might turn into a pumpkin. Consider this fair warning, kiddo."

Spencer wrinkled his nose, "Disney princess references? Really?"

Derek shrugged, "Well, hell. If you're Cinderella, that makes me a stuffy white guy with daddy issues and a crown he doesn't want, so we both pulled the short stick on that one."

"We really did, though," Spencer agreed.

* * *

Hopping out of the cab beside Spencer was easy, nearly thoughtless, as they pulled close to each other in the February Virginia night chill and embarked on a short walk across the street from New Hampshire Avenue to the Kennedy Theater. Derek tugged Spencer closer, looping his arm through his boyfriend's thin one and huddling close for warmth. _Mostly_ warmth anyway. Spencer chuckled under his breath, replying, "I know what you're doing, Sneaky." Derek let a shrug be his reply and as he felt the soft slide of Spencer's cheek on his shoulder, Derek smiled to himself. Spencer may look like a supermodel with his stylish new haircut and designer suit, but his hair still smells like clearance vanilla scented shampoo from K-Mart. That's his boy.

Derek glanced across the busy street to see all of the lights and velvet and fanfare, all for the Mariinsky Russian Ballet Troupe and its illustrious attendees. The building was lighted blue on the lower level and red on the top one, the entire building overlooking the huge Potomac River. There were hundreds of reporters, columnists, and the like surrounding the perimeter of the large, water surrounded building he tugged on Derek's arm a little tighter. They continued on, Spencer jabbering nervously into his ear about all of the cool stuff they're about to see. He had researched this version of the ballet and had already seen illegal video tapings of it on the Internet, but he was still so excited. Spencer rattled off consonant-riddled name after consonant-riddled name**—**the principal dancers apparently**—**and nearly hopped down the street with a large grin on his face that used to be cute, but is now drop dead sexy.

He didn't really get over the sudden change as seamlessly as he had pretended to. Spencer was his adorable, comfy, rumpled haired sweetheart. He was Derek's classroom crush and the only boy Derek had ever said the words "I love you" to. Spencer was wrinkled noses and paper ball battles and early morning coffee musings. He was late nights spent reading and long movie sessions tangled up on the couch and mismatched socks rubbing against his leg for warmth. He was kindness. He was understanding. He was unapologetic brilliance. He was "if you use one more fork without washing it, you're not getting off tonight". Spencer would roll around the bed lazily, peek out from under the sheets, make grumbled noises against the sun that assaulted his squinted eyes, laugh as Derek tickled his ribs, smack him with stray pillows, warm his body with soft kisses, and put on that pouty face of his before asking Derek to make him some coffee.

Now, he looks like more of a man than that boy of yesterday did.

Derek sees the hairline wrinkles at the sides of his eyes. He notices the shadow of stubble under Spencer's jaw that never seems to go away no matter how often he shaves it. He sees the sternness of his soft, taut brows and the age and experience they carry. Spencer's a lot more grown up than Derek gives him credit for, and while the mussed curls and warm flannels helped aid his youth, this advanced state of adulthood suited him very, _very_ well. He reminds him of one of those German Shepard puppies that grew into one of those police dogs**—**all badass and astute. Kid's not a kid anymore, Derek knew that. But, now his outer appearance proved it. And it's such a fucking turn on for Derek, you have no idea.

Spencer half-dragged Derek over to the steps of the Performing Arts Center and cameras assaulted them just like they did any other pairing. Lights flashed in their faces as they tried to hold, calm, affluent expressions. Derek could see the panic creep up in Spencer's forever youthful brown eyes and he took his boyfriend's hand, squeezing gently. Spencer struggled to relax into his touch as the yelling grew loud, reporters shrieking and attendees answering questions. Ushered forward and told to stand in front of the long backdrop along the trail for pictures that seemed to be coming a mile a minute. They had about nine feet down the carpet before someone recognized them. Being at a dance associated black tie event, someone was bound to notice the two men who changed competitive American ballroom forever.

Suddenly, a young man with caramel skin braids and gauged ears held out a microphone, "DaShawn Lucas, the Ohio Manifesto!"

Spencer paused and Derek tugged him by his sleeve, "It'll be fine. Come on over, Spence."

The two approached the columnist at the edge of the velvet rope, squinting against the harsh lights as Mr. Lucas called out, "Derek Morgan and… Doc Reid? Am, I correct?"

Derek nodded for the both of them and gestured toward Spencer with a small smile, "Yeah, you are."

"You look so… different," Mr. Lucas replied confusedly.

Spencer stared back at him with wide, blank eyes. Derek squeezed his hand gently, pulling him back to Earth as Spencer stammered out, "I-I cut my hair. I was kind of overdue for one and this event provided me with an… excuse."

Derek wrapped his arm around Spencer's shoulders and felt the man relax against him, "Either way, he's hot as all Hell, am I right?"

Mr. Lucas held the microphone with a chuckle, "Yeah, it sure is working for him. Anyway, I'm here to ask how you're enjoying your night so far."

Derek spoke up, "It's been wonderful. Everyone out here is so passionate about dance and the performing arts community couldn't be more warm and welcoming. We just can't wait to get in there and see some classical dance. Besides, it'll be nice to be in the crowd for once instead of on stage, right, kid? ...kid?"

Mr. Lucas looked Spencer's way and Spencer blanched out, "Ah… yeah. Y-yes. I'm a… uh fan of… I'm sorry. These lights are so damned bright. Is all this really necessary?"

Derek elbowed Spencer gently, laughing nervously as he covered up Spencer's flub, "Aww, honey. They just need to make sure they can see everything they need to, especially with all of this greatness walking the carpet beside us. It's really an honor to be here among some of the country's leaders and elites."

"Um, okay. Sure," Mr. Lucas blinked at Spencer confusedly before glancing back at Derek, "So, what brings the two of you to the Russian Ballet?"

Spencer glanced at Derek worriedly and Derek answered for the both of them, holding Spencer's hand in his and taking a deep breath before speaking. His heart thudded in his chest the same way it had when he was on the phone with Cindi. But, he had promised himself that tonight was the night, and so it was. He shrugged and spit it out as plainly as he could, "Tonight is our first date. What better place to spend it then surrounded by dance, cameras, and crazy famous people? That's sort of how we met anyway, isn't it?"

Mr. Lucas's face brightened up in a way that made Derek sure he had earned his paycheck in those few words as he asked, "Wow. So, you mean to tell me that you two are now dating? You're in a romantic relationship? All the Team Moreid posts are finally becoming 'canon'?"

Derek nudged at Spencer and Spencer pushed nonexistent hair behind his ear as he replied with a soft blush to his cheeks, "Well… yes. Derek and I are together. We started dating on Thursday, actually."

Mr. Lucas laughed giddily, "That's awesome! A wonderful last two days, hopefully?"

Derek added, "We spent so much of it working, we barely had a moment to ourselves, but… tonight is dedicated to the start of something beautiful."

Spencer beamed at Derek's side, holding his hand tighter as Mr. Lucas's camera followed their closeness and proximity, "Couldn't have said that better myself, babe."

The two smiled at each other, growing comfortable against each other as the Ohio reporter continued with his questions and snapped a few pictures and moved on to the next couple to catch their eye. The second they had lost him, Derek and Spencer were quickly snatched up by interviewer after interviewer. To each, they outed their relationship.

Most of the reactions were pleasant. No matter what their stance on homosexual relationships were, every reporter wanted a story like this on their hands. Derek and Spencer stood firmly, leaning into each other and grinning at each other like the lovesick dorks they were. After Mr. Lucas, outing themselves got easier and easier every time. It just rolled off of the tongue after a while, and the two pressed kisses to cheeks, laced fingers, and bumped foreheads comfortably in front of the cameras.

There were a couple of people who had stopped Derek, though. Some asked Derek if he was gay, asked what he would be doing for the LGBT community, and pressured him on religious ideals. Spencer pulled him closer and started to dodge their questions for better answers the same way Derek had been doing for him earlier. What can he say? Kid's a quick study and Derek's more than glad for it.

He was prepared to answer those questions tonight. He knew they'd be asked, he knew what would be expected of him. But, tonight wasn't about putting Derek's sexuality on the spotlight and scrutinizing his MVP award and questioning of the extent of his manliness. Tonight, the two men just wanted to go on a date. They wanted to be out and happy and proud of each other. They wanted to hold hands and kiss and float away on Cloud Nine just like any other couple on their first date. Derek shouldn't have to answer those questions. Not right now, anyway. It isn't the time or place. Spencer realized that, and steered the interviewers off of them with a type of backwards underhanded attack talking that would put Richard Nixon to shame.

Before long, Derek and Spencer had made their way into the theater, guiding each other through the crowd until they got to their seats near the front. The blue carpet had shuffled underfoot as they waded, surrounded by suits and gowns. It took longer than they'd figured it would to get to their seats and the lights had started to dim by the time they sat beside each other in their issued seats.

The opening speaker said his bit and Spencer damn near vibrated with excitement at Derek's side, wrinkling his nose and hopping around in his seat. As the curtains started to open, revealing the wrecked, sodden scene. Grey furniture, a dim evergreen, and macabre paintings sparsely hung on mossy wallpaper set the scene of a dark family's Christmas. The ballet was performing an off-putting remake of the Nutcracker, full of creepy interpretations and horror make-up. The damn thing was strange. And by strange, I mean it was flat out weird as fuck. But, it was so… fucking… beautiful.

The composition was incredible, the direction was astounding, and the dancers? They were like swans in a damned freshwater lake. Beautiful. Derek sees why Spencer likes ballet so much. I mean, he's not going to strap on some pointe shoes and get hopping, but he sees the appeal in wanting to do just that.

Glancing over to his boyfriend, Derek could see Spencer's eyes wide with glee and foot flexing and arching in time as he leaned into Derek. He smiled. Spencer is really enjoying himself, which is good. Despite the fact that Derek is taking him out, Spencer deserves this. He really does. He works hard, he spends all of his time rushing around trying to do a million things at once when he's not trying to make ends meet, and this past month and a half have been murder on him. For once, Spencer's shoulders are parallel with his chest, and his childish smile fully open and bright.

By the time act two was half over, Spencer's excitement had bubbled over to a raw, palpable feeling, spread out across the two seats. Their hands were still clasped and Spencer's head was rested on Derek's shoulder as he watched dreamily. During the final waltz, Spencer leaned up and kissed Derek lightly on his lips and mouthed the words "thank you". Derek winked at him, shrugging it off even though he was touched by it. He reached over and took off his jacket, fitting it around Spencer's shoulders before kissing his temple and wrapping his arm around Spencer from across the seat, pulling him in close.

The dancers leapt across the stage in a thrilling scene. They threw streamers and crowned Clara and the Prince the rulers of the misplaced Land of Sweets, dancing around the young couple with pristine practice and joy. The lights on the stage flashed, bringing the scene to a crescendo before the curtains closed in the height of the action, instead of at the end of it, leaving you begging for more. During the applause, Spencer sniffed quietly, rubbing under his eyes; he nudged Derek hard and grimaced after Derek asked if he was "actually crying".

Spencer was.

They were happy tears, he said.

* * *

They considered going out to dinner on the cab ride back to the hotel, but Spencer insisted that he was tired. Derek agreed. It had been a full day, and while it was enjoyable, Derek was quite content with the fact that it was trickling off to an end. They walked leisurely through the lobby, pressed the fourth button on the elevator, and strolled down the hallway as they lamented about the ballet. Spencer thoroughly enjoyed it. Especially since he had the opportunity to meet Vladimir Ivanchenko, a principal dancer that Spencer had an artistic obsession with for years. He was quite puppyish with his large blue eyes and floppy brown hair and thick accent. They spoke for a while in his broken English before Spencer burst out in a sudden torrent of Russian. They laughed together for a bit, which kept Derek entertained as they went on and on in a foreign language that he couldn't for the life of him understand. By the end of their little conversation, he kissed Spencer's cheek and signed his program, automatically sending the little guy to Heaven and back.

Derek pulled the key card out of his pocket and swiped it along the door, pushing it open for Spencer before walking in himself. He turned and pulled the door to a close behind him, and before he could even finish what he was doing, Spencer was on him like white on rice. He grabbed Derek's face and shoved his way into a kiss. His lithe pale fingers went to work unbuttoning Derek's shirt in haste as he whispered out, "It's time. I'm ready. Let's do this."

"Uh," Derek kissed him back, pulling Spencer's jacket off of him and tossing it across the room before pulling him in for another, "You sure?"

"Oh, yeah," Spencer chuckled darkly and pushing his tongue into Derek's mouth roughly.

Derek loosened Spencer's tie and started unbuttoning his shirt, "I would have enjoyed, you know, a little warning."

Spencer lowered himself to his knees and unbuckled Derek's belt, looking up at him with those wide fucking eyes, "What? You don't like surprises?"

Derek shook his head, tugging Spencer back up to him to press sloppy kisses to his neck, "Not really, no."

Spencer pushed him back for a moment, staring into Derek's eyes wantonly, "Do you want to wait a little longer?"

Derek shook his head and chuckled, "Like _fuck_, I do."

Spencer tugged Derek in hard by his unbuttoned dress shirt, breathing against his lips, "Then throw me on the bed and take me, Football. I'm not asking twice."

"Boy, you don't have to," Derek answered, leaning forward and kissing Spencer softly. All worry and fear left Derek's body as they kissed each other in the doorway of their hotel room like oxygen was going out of style. Derek pushed him off after a moment and stood, taking Spencer by the hand and pulling him out of the door way, guiding them into the room. Spencer's face was red and he was constantly busying himself with fiddling with his short hair the way he does when he's nervous. When they made it to the bed, Spencer pushed at Derek's chest to place him on the bed and climbed over him. Derek's arms encircled Spencer and the two met in the middle for a strong, heady kiss. They rolled over within moments, Derek on top of the lithe dancer. Spencer's hands ran down Derek's bare chest, already losing himself to passion as he panted. His body had started to sweat, his blush ran down his neck, and as Derek pressed kisses to the side of his face, he could feel the blood pounding in the sensitive skin behind his ear. They shed clothing like it was on fire, consuming each other like they were dying of hunger.

Derek started to place kisses down Spencer's jaw, added them sparingly to the right side of his neck. Spencer grabbed at the back of Derek's head as he did so and Derek pushed his hand underneath Spencer's ribbed tank styled undershirt. He teased it up Spencer's stomach, hand finding a soft nipple as he pressed licking kisses to Spencer's neck. The dancer gasped out a swear and wrapped his legs around Derek's waist.

Derek pushed the shirt up higher**—**nearly to his neck**—**and pressed an open mouthed kiss to the bottom of Spencer's ribs, right there on the spot that makes Spencer react. Unlike Ethan, Derek wasn't afraid of it. Spencer moaned out and pushed Derek's face into his skin. Derek kissed him there again and again, leaving small nips and kisses along the way as he headed down to Spencer's waist. He palmed his hand up Spencer's chest as he kissed at his stomach. A pounding noise broke through and Spencer jumped, panting out, "Whoa! What's that?"

"Drunk guy in the hallway trying to find his room." Derek whispered against his skin, biting gently on Spencer's hipbone as his fingers found and rubbed into a hardening nipple.

Spencer's breath hitched as Derek nibbled on a hipbone, "Oh, thank God. I thought someone was trying to kill us."

Derek kissed the bite he left, "Don't worry about it. I have a kitchen knife under the bed."

Spencer pushed his head back into the pillow as Derek started licking into his navel, "That's kind of scary, but you know what, I don't care. It can be good. It can. I mean, if someone actually decides to come in here and surprise us, at least I'm not going to die in bed with you."

Derek chuckled darkly and took the waistband of Spencer's boxers in his teeth, "As if that wouldn't be a nice way to go…"

"Oh, God. Oh, fuck. Stop teasing me," Spencer whined to the man laving dirty kisses across his midsection, adding when Derek started nipping harder at his skin, "Mmm, _that_! Keep doing that."

Derek pulled them down, staring Spencer dead in the eyes after eyeing the man's stiffening erection, "How are you already hard? I just started kissing you like a second ago."

Spencer pushed at Derek's face, leaning up to glare at him, "I'm easily stimulated and you're licking me while pulling off my clothes. Do the math!"

Derek winked, "I'd rather do you."

Spencer moaned, "You're so lame that sometimes I wonder why I want to fuck you."

Derek started sucking at the sensitive spot beside Spencer's ribs, looking up at Spencer through his eyelashes, "Do you, now?"

"_Shit_, Derek, yeah..." Spencer groaned out, arching his back into Derek's mouth, "Less talking more screwing me."

Derek laughed and bit his lip, looking back down at Spencer's body. He tugged Spencer's boxers down his legs and tossed them across the room. Next, he climbed back up Spencer's body to kiss at his slender chest. Spencer responded with his hands. He gripped at Derek's shoulders and slid them nice and soft up Derek's neck to settle on the back of his smooth head. Giving himself a moment to break out the mental ninja dance for getting Spencer naked again, Derek palmed down Spencer's body and took the dancer's length in his hand, stroking it firmly. Spencer leaned into the touch and moaned out as Derek pressed open-mouthed kisses all over his chest, stubble and beard scraping across skin in a way that can only be arousing. Spencer moaned out louder, "Yeah… _oh_!"

"There are other people in this hotel, you know?" Derek chuckled lightly.

Spencer's voice hitched as Derek's hand picked up speed, "I… ah, fuck them! _Yeah_…"

Derek eased the tip of his tongue against Spencer's skin and continued his ministrations, "You like that?"

"Yeah!" Spencer's head tossed back and hit the pillow harshly as he wrapped his arms around Derek's neck.

Derek asked, "When was the last time you were tested?"

Spencer answered breathlessly, "Eight months ago, a couple weeks after I last had sex."

Derek inquired, stroking him harder, "And are you clean?"

Beyond words, he nodded, and about a half hour later, Spencer lay panting and grinning and sweating.

Derek crawled up to lay beside him, staring at the ceiling in awe as his tired chest heaved. He tried to catch his breath as his mind buzzed with pleasure and his body sang with the tingly aftereffects of a fully satisfying orgasm. Before today, he thought he was pretty versed in sucking dick. Gladly, he was wrong. Oh, fuck. Gladly. That was the best lesson Spencer had ever given him. Fuck waltzes and tangos, this is where he should hold his classroom. In bed.

His mind was swimming with that post-sex haze that made it nearly impossible to get up, nevertheless say something of much sexy smoothness. Thankfully, Spencer seemed just as conked out as he was. Hell, he was probably worse seeing as he'd just recently tipped over the edge of his climax about three seconds ago. His fingers were locked with Derek's still as they lay beside each other in a post-coital haze.

Derek breathed, "I don't know what that thing is that you do with your tongue, but it needs to be illegal until I master it."

Spencer wiped a line of sweat off of his forehead, cackling out breathlessly, "You got pretty close. It's all in the tip of it. You gotta keep your dexterity up. Do some verbal exercises. 'This and these both have tees' is a good one for it if you say it enough."

Derek chuckled, "Bullshit."

Spencer laughed, "You think I'm kidding, but I'm not. I swear to God, it works miracles."

Derek panted lazily with a sly grin, "Well then, I might need another lesson."

Spencer rolled over and lay all over Derek's chest all sticky and warm, "Damn right you will. I'll give as many as you wish if you show me how you do that swirly thing."

Derek chuckled tiredly, "Deal."

"Awesome..." Spencer kissed at Derek's sweaty neck and mumbled, "Ugh. I want to take a shower, but I'm so fucking tired right now. I feel like I'm about to pass out."

Derek shrugged, "Then, pass out. I won't judge. Hell, you know what? I will if you will."

"I know, but now we're in this weird stage where we're both physically exhausted, but our minds are like 'man, I'm totally in the mood for more sex'," Spencer sighed into his partner's skin.

Derek started to laugh, "There's no way that's happening for the next twenty minutes, and by then, I guarantee we'll be unconscious."

Spencer mumbled, "Now, what?"

Derek added easily, glancing down to watch his short haired partner breathing slowly on his chest, "I can lull you to sleep, if you want."

Spencer asked, "With what?"

"You'll find out," Derek wrapped his arm around Spencer from where he lay on his chest and kissed his forehead before tugging the covers up over his elbows, running his fingers lightly down Spencer's sensitive skin. He watched the rise and fall of Spencer's back as he started to drift off in the silence. Derek felt his chest swell with emotion the way it does when he watches Spencer like this. Just a week ago, Derek thought that he might never get to hold him like this ever again. He thought he'd never have his lover in his arms, smiling and happy and holding onto him. But, now he has just that. Things are perfect. At least for now.

Derek's not going to think about anything else. No competition, no sex tape, no paparazzi, no ballets. Right now, they're laying together and Derek's rubbing gently against Spencer's back with his hands in a calm, comforting motion. They're breathing together and their heart beats are syncing up. Spencer's lips brushed against Derek's collarbone and he nuzzled his face into Derek's chest. He's almost asleep, and Derek can't help it. He started to do something he did whenever his sisters were having trouble sleeping, right after their father died and all they had were each other when their mother fazed out on them. He'd hold them close like this and he'd sing something. Just really gently, under his breath. They'd complain, yeah, but it would get their tears to stop and they'd always fall right into sleep.

He kissed Spencer's forehead again and sung quietly, "_I know you once said to me... 'This is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be'... time is only wasting so why wait for eventually? If we're gonna do something about it... we should do it right now..._"

Spencer spoke up gently, "I thought you said you couldn't sing."

Derek replied, "I can't."

Spencer smiled against his skin, "Well, I like it."

Derek answered, "That makes things less awkward, then."

"Keep doing it," Spencer urged, laying his hand against Derek's chest and waiting.

Derek pressed his nose into Spencer's soft short curls, "_You give me a feeling that I never felt before... and I deserve it, I think I deserve it... it's becoming something that's impossible to ignore... and I can't take it_," Derek let his thumb trail down Spencer's back and watched as he breathed gently on top of him, "_I was wondering maybe... could I make you my baby... if we do the un-thinkable... would it make us look crazy... or would it be so beautiful... either way, I'm saying... if you ask me I'm ready..._"

He could feel Spencer's eyelashes against his skin, blinking softly like little butterfly kisses on his chest as Spencer pulled him in closer, listening to Derek singing to him. They were connecting. Derek could sense it in the air. It was simple, yet beautiful. This is that part of love that makes fools fall. Moments like this, where two people meld into one, holding on to each other, on the edge of bliss and sorrow. His chest grew damp under Spencer's eyes. His lover was crying again, for the second time tonight. Spencer's fingers were digging into Derek as he held him close, gripping onto his lover, trying to grasp this moment and force it to stay. He never wanted to leave and Derek could feel it clawing at him. The longing was almost unbearable. He could feel Spencer's feelings, smell his need, taste his pain. Spencer has never held on to Derek so tightly before tonight. But, as of now, he was clutching him close as if he would die if they were ripped apart. Derek could feel it. The pleading in his soul, the scratchiness of his throat, his spit slick lips parting as he tried to form words against the sobs that threatened to replace them.

Spencer buried his face into Derek's chest as he whispered once again that he loved him, his voice surprisingly strong. He didn't wipe away his tears like he did at the theater. There was nothing to wipe away. Derek knew that. Spencer wasn't sad. Maybe a little mournful, but not sad. He was desperate. So was Derek. He has to get on a plane to Chicago in three days. They have no clear cut plan written out to visit each other. They don't even know when they'll see each other again after Tuesday. All they know is that whatever they have will soon be changed. Not over, but different. Will it be too different? Possibly. Will it be the end of them? Maybe.

Derek felt another tear fall down the skin of his chest, making it's way down his toffee colored left rib as his boyfriend cried desperate, mournful, happy tears. They wanted to stay in this moment forever, even though sleep was coming over them like a vice, clamping down on their calmness and their connection and feeding off of it.

Nothing lasts forever, Derek knows this.

But, at least they had this time. The time before they fell asleep.

Derek ran a thumb under his own sodden eye, "_If you ask me, I'm ready..._"

* * *

**A/N: Just like before, I'm going to be mindful of the site rules when it comes to hanky panky scenes, so it's edited out and the full scene will be published on the AO3 version of this story late this afternoon. If you're looking for it, Google: RAISING THE BARRE MORGAN/REID AO3 and the Raising the Barre 'Verse will show up.**

**Love,**

**Blue**

**P.S. The song referenced in this chapter is so totally not mine. All right's go to (Un-thinkable by Alicia Keys).**

**P.P.S. That guy Spencer was talking to is based off of an actual principal ballet dancer from Mariinsky named Vladimir. If you want to see a little interview with him, check it out here on Youtube ( _/watch?v=dhrFnbnwYHU_ ) he's so fucking adorable, it's ridiculous. **


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